


KFC

by koteosa



Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Nonbinary Frisk, Nonverbal Communication, Other, Queerplatonic Relationships, nonbinary chara, nonbinary kris
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-09-05 22:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16819681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koteosa/pseuds/koteosa
Summary: In which Frisk stays with Toriel, Chara is corporeal, and Kris falls into the Underground.





	1. ashes, ashes, they all fall down

**Author's Note:**

> hi I haven't written fanfic in like thirteen years but I've been working up the nerve to do non-original fiction lately so here we are
> 
> All characters are written to look like how I draw them, my art tumblr is koteosa if you want to check into my undertale/deltarune tags. This mostly only applies to KFC but there's a few other characters I've taken small artistic liberties on, although you could probably figure those out pretty easily without checking my art tumblr

“Like I said, it’s not even real fire,” Chara says with a roll of their eyes. From their place in front of the living room fireplace, Chara sticks their hand inside the flames, watching as the magical fire licks harmlessly across their pale skin. It’s warm, and feels more like a gravity-defying stream of water than anything else.

Frisk hovers from nearby, tugging on Chara’s sleeve to get their attention in order to sign, “ _Does it hurt?_ ”

“No way. Come on, you know mom baby proofed every inch of this place,” Chara says. “We couldn’t get hurt even if we tried. Or, well… maybe that’s not true, we could hit each other with chairs or something…”

“ _Please don’t hit me with a chair,”_ Frisk signs. Alas, they are completely ignored, as Chara continues to morbidly brainstorm all the ways they could get hurt. Mostly in an _on purpose_ sort of way. Frisk frowns, slightly perturbed by Chara’s rambling of how “we could drown ourselves in the bath” or “we could choke on all the plastic silverware in the kitchen”.

A tapping noise brings Chara back to attention. They note Frisk’s stubby nails hitting the stone surface of the fireplace, a sign that they had something to say and needed Chara to look.

“What?”

“ _Mom won’t like it if she sees you touching the fire_ ,” Frisk signs.

“Well, THAT is why she’s not GONNA see it,” Chara retorts.

Frisk snorts, or at least, makes a face like they did. “ _Truly the master of stealth_ ,” they sign.

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Chara says, puffing out their chest, where a golden locket engraved with the delta rune rests. “Unlike _some people_ , I know how to be subtle with my footsteps.” To prove their point, they push themself up off the floor before proceeding to stomp loudly around the room. “I’m Frisk, and I like to announce my presence to everyone within a fifty foot radius! Oh boy, I sure hope no fish ladies with huge spears find me!”

Despite the mockery, Frisk giggles, their shoulders shaking with mirth while the only sounds that come out of them consist of amused huffs of breath and the occasional quiet snort. Chara keeps their eyes fixed on Frisk, seeing them signing “ _I don’t do that!_ ” whenever their hands aren’t busy pointlessly covering their mouth.

In the middle of Chara mimicking dragon noises while stomping around to Frisk’s amusement, the sound of the front door suddenly opening and closing pulls the two fallen children out of their shenanigans.

“Oh, mom’s home,” Chara mumbles offhandedly. Curious, they wander over to the archway leading out into the landing area. Behind them, the not-so-gentle padding of Frisk’s feet can be heard, and Chara sticks their arm out behind them for Frisk to latch on to, to help them find their way to the doorway a little faster.

In front of the door, Chara sees Toriel stood facing away, kneeling down doing something with her hands that Chara can’t quite make out. A tiny hand tugs at Chara’s sleeve and, without turning away, Chara quietly explains what they’re seeing to Frisk.

“She looks like she’s taking off her shoes or something, but she doesn’t even wear shoes so it’s weird,” Chara mumbles, oblivious to the tiny nods of understanding Frisk keeps giving them. “Um, she’s putting her hands on something? Now she’s… wait, shut up.” They throw up their hand, to which Frisk flinches, still clinging to Chara’s sleeve like a lifeline.

With such a small house, Toriel’s voice easily carries to the living room. She speaks in a gentle hush, her neck craned towards something blocked by her massive, furry body. Another monster, perhaps? Although, Chara couldn’t fathom who that could even be; the ruins were full of monsters that mostly kept to themselves. The only monster that ever came to visit was one that couldn’t even be physically touched to begin with, throwing everything back into unknown territory.

“Do not worry, my child, you will be safe here,” Toriel was saying, causing Chara to frown and shoot a glance back at Frisk, who was looking just as confused, lips pursed with one brow raised in silent question.

“I don’t see anyone else,” Chara whispers, suddenly feeling the need to be extra quiet. They turn back to Toriel right as she continues speaking.

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up? I’m sure you’ll feel much better after we’ve gotten all these leaves out of your hair,” Toriel says, followed up by a gentle laugh. She moves her arm in a motion Chara recognizes as a hair ruffle. Their heart drops as their brain finally registers what’s happening.

“Another human fell down,” Chara mumbles, numb, speaking more to themself than to Frisk.

They watch as Toriel stands to her full height, taking a few steps away from the doorway with her hand clasped around the hand of a much smaller human child. Well--maybe “child” was a bit inaccurate. Chara supposed it depended more on who you asked; some people still referred to even older teenagers as children, so perhaps it was all a touch subjective. But, Toriel _had_ said “child”, so for now, they were a child.

The “child” seemed, from a distance, decently taller than either Chara or Frisk, hence their hesitation to consider them a child at all. They had dark brown hair that brushed against their shoulders, with olive skin and an oversized black dress shirt with matching leggings. Something about them seemed incredibly strange, something Chara couldn’t quite put their finger on. Was it the choppy hair? The weird outfit? Or perhaps it was just the way they looked like they had been living in the forest outside Mt. Ebbott for months, considering the caked on dirt around their face and neck and all the twigs sticking out of their hair.

They hesitated to say it might be in the way the human walked stiffly and with their head down; a lot of kids climbed Mt. Ebbott, and it was never for happy reasons.

The two disappear into the washroom at the edge of the hallway, and only at that point does Chara stop staring long enough to finally acknowledge Frisk, who was eagerly awaiting further information.

“It’s a kid,” Chara explains, establishing whatever passed as eye contact with someone who never opened their eyes. “Looks older. Covered in twigs.” They pause, mulling over the image in their head. “Looked kinda like you, actually. Just older and weirder. Straighter hair, too.”

Frisk opens their mouth in an “O” before lowering their head in thought, processing this new information. Chara playfully rolls their eyes, putting both hands on their partner’s shoulders and slightly patting them, snapping Frisk out of their thoughts.

“Don’t think too hard, you’ll overheat,” Chara teases. “Mom took them into the bathroom, since they looked like they fought a tree and lost. You can meet them later.”

With the tiny grin that had once won over the hearts of thousands of monsters, Frisk smiles before nodding in assent, allowing themself to be led back into the living room, where the two of them wait by the fireplace as they had not long before.

Chara finds themself unable to muster the energy to pretend to smile, their dark brown eyebrows drawn into a scowl over narrowed red eyes, lips curled in disgust.  
  
  
  


It feels like an eternity of waiting before Toriel finally steps into the room; although, Chara deeply feels as if they could have easily waited an eternity more, if only to keep the weird kid out of their life. Surprisingly, Toriel comes in alone, although Chara supposes it hadn’t quite been enough time for someone so thoroughly caked in dirt to have gotten clean, and a kid that old probably didn’t want to be assisted while bathing. Especially not by a goat monster they just met, and ESPECIALLY not by a goat monster you never knew existed to begin with. It had been so long, Chara often forgot there were people not used to the existence of monsters.

“I apologize for leaving the two of you waiting,” Toriel says, the tip of one paw resting delicately against her chin. “I trust you haven’t caused too much trouble while I was away?”

“Nope,” Chara responds immediately, grateful for Frisk’s fixation on the human child preventing them from mentioning anything about the fire. Toriel squints her eyes a little at Chara’s response, but gives up on her suspicion fairly quickly, what with there being much more important things at hand than Chara potentially having acted out in her absence. The two children feign ignorance, waiting for Toriel to explain things on her own.

The goat monster steps over to her chair and takes a seat, beckoning the two fallen children over to her. She holds out her arms, and Frisk immediately grabs on and uses it to climb into their adoptive mother’s lap, nestling into the crook of her arm like a kitten. Chara, meanwhile, leans on the chair arm opposite Frisk, doing their best to act as casual as possible.

“My children, I have something important to tell you,” Toriel begins. Right away, Frisk reaches down to the locket around their neck, the one matching Chara’s own, and taps at the gold exterior, causing Toriel to direct her attention their way.

“ _Is it about the human?_ ” They sign. Toriel’s rust colored eyes widen slightly, one paw rising to cover the side of her mouth.

“Oh! You must have noticed us coming in,” Toriel deduces.

“We heard the door,” Chara explains. “And you talking. To. The _Human_.” The disdain in their voice as they spit out the word “human” is readily apparent, so much so that Frisk shoots them an open-mouthed glance. However, Toriel remains impassive, perhaps opting to ignore the bitterness in their tone.

“Yes, well, I found them lying in the flower bed,” Toriel says. “They appear unharmed, just a bit dirty. Although they had flower petals around their mouth…” At that last part, Toriel’s face scrunches up, disgruntled and confused. She quickly recovers, “I brought them here, as I felt was right. I intend to give them the spare bed in your room, until I can find a suitable alternative.”

Chara frowns, lip jutted out in a pout. She was talking about giving out _their_ bed, the one they used to sleep in when they’d first gotten their body back. Sure, they hadn’t actually slept in it in nearly three months, but… still. It was the principle of the matter!

Regardless, Chara keeps their mouth shut. They didn’t even actually sleep in that bed, there was no point in throwing a huge stink about it. It wasn’t a hill worth dying on. Or, in this case, a bed worth dying on.

Again.

Frisk taps their locket again, bringing everyone’s attention back to them. “W _e can clean out the spare room for them later, right?_ ”

The room they were referring to could only be the door at the end of the hallway, the one with the sign marked “closed for renovations”. The three of them knew exactly what that room used to be, although Toriel wasn’t aware Frisk was privy to that information due to how tight lipped she had been about it. Despite the sign it felt more like an excuse; that room would never be renovated, although Chara had always imagined that if it had, it would be turned into something a touch spiteful, like… an anti-gardening room…?

Listen, they weren’t the most creative person in the world, okay?

With the type of strained fake smile that says “no, we won’t”, Toriel smooths down Frisk’s fluffy hair and says, “I’ll consider it.”

Ah, yes. Mom speak for “no”.

“Yeah, yeah, so when do we have to meet them?” Chara impatiently interjects, crossing their arms over their chest. Perhaps as some type of mini-punishment, Toriel reaches over and ruffles their hair, to which Chara makes a series of shocked and offended noises.

“Do not be so sour, young one. I am sure you will grow to like them, just as you have each other,” Toriel says, voice sickly saccharine.

Considering the circumstances… “Doubt it,” Chara grumbles. Before anyone can say anything, they turn their head away with a huff. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

Toriel good-naturedly rolls her eyes, not that anyone is there to really see it. “They are taking a bath at the moment. I would appreciate it if you would both do your best to welcome them. Just as well, I was thinking of making them a pie, as a welcoming present.” She turns toward Frisk. “What do you say to helping me in the kitchen, Frisk?”

Frisk’s mouth falls open slightly, surprised, but they quickly recover, hiding away all traces of emotion before giving a very stoic thumbs up. With a soft chuckle Toriel smooths their hair down, gently so as not to graze them with her claws. Turning her head over to Chara, she asks, “Chara, my child. Would you care to assist us?”

They huff, grumbling incoherently as a frown darkens their face. They go to reject the offer, since, after all, why would they want to help a _human_? Besides Frisk, no human they’d ever met was worth baking a pie for. But then something occurs to them, something so brilliant they can’t stop themself from grinning ear to ear, a dark glint in their eye.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”  
  
  
  


The human takes very long baths, as it turns out, the pie having ample time to cool to a pleasantly warm temperature, perfect for eating. Toriel had even managed to wash and dry the human’s clothes, using her fire magic to expedite the process. The three were gathered around the table, putting on the finishing touches in setting the table when the human walks in. At once, two sets of eyes lock on to them.

Immediately, Chara notices the addition of a green and yellow striped sweater to the human’s wardrobe, and they narrow their eyes in a glare. The knitting almost feels like a personal attack, even if the yarn _is_ made out of a slightly different color from the one Chara was used to seeing. It was still just… too much. What was next, a heart locket?

They keep their mouth shut. A part of them knew it would be silly to throw a fit about this, too, it wasn’t like Toriel kept many other color sweaters. It had been he who shall not be named’s favorite, so of course there would be dozens of them.

“Ah, Kris!” Toriel exclaims. “Come in. We made you a pie!”

The human--Kris, apparently--remains still, one hand on the frame of the archway, hair covering their eyes with their lips pressed into a line. They move their head slowly away from Toriel and towards the table, where a freshly baked butterscotch cinnamon pie rests dead center, four sets of dinnerware placed before four wooden chairs. With their eyes hidden, it’s hard to tell if they look anywhere else, their head pointed directly at the pie.

They take several extremely stiff, mechanical steps forward until they come to a rest next to the only unoccupied chair, across from Frisk. Toriel gives them a patient smile as they take a seat. Chara, meanwhile, glares under the table at Kris’s legs, which stretch out as far forward as possible before one bends, foot resting on a lower rung of wood on the chair. They aren’t tall enough for their leg to reach Frisk’s side of the table, but, still. Who does that?

Kris keeps their hands, which are mostly covered by the sleeves of their borrowed jumper, in their lap, a strange juxtaposition to the rude positioning of their leg. They keep their head down, making no noise or sudden movements at all whatsoever. Chara’s fingers curl, annoyed.

Completely disregarding their strange behavior, Toriel cuts the pie into several slices before asking Kris to choose the piece they want. The human’s head raises just enough for them to--apparently--see the slices, and an entire fifteen seconds passes in tense silence before Kris slowly points to a seemingly random piece, which Toriel dutifully scoops out and serves to them.

Chara grinds their teeth.

Afterwards, Toriel serves up a perfectly average, not too big, not too small slice for Frisk, followed up by a medium sized slice for Chara, which she then cuts in half to form two thin slices. Out of the corner of Chara’s eye they catch Kris watching over the exchange, their mouth parted slightly in curiosity.

After settling in proper, Toriel reaches over and gently ruffles Kris’s choppy hair. Their brief flinch doesn’t go unnoticed to either Toriel or Chara, but they quickly settle in to the affection, allowing Toriel to complete the gesture. Kris remains still with their hands in their lap, their head turning slightly as they watch everyone else at the table begin to eat. All except Chara, who holds their fork limply in one hand while staring, dead-eyed, at Kris. They watch the scrawny looking kid--teen?--uncomfortably gulp and Chara can’t help the smirk that breaks out across their face.

“Chara, be nice,” Toriel chides, startling Chara for just a moment before they pout, irritated. She wasn’t even looking at them, focused instead on scooping up an appropriately polite amount of pie onto her spoon. Were all moms psychic? Was that it?

Annoyed, Chara picks up one of their two slices of pie with their hand and shoves a frankly absurd amount of it in their mouth all at once, maintaining what they assumed was eye contact with Kris all the while. They watch in satisfaction as Kris mouths “wow” at the display.

Toriel speaks up. “Now that we’re all settled in, Kris, I’d like to introduce you to my two children.” She gestures with her paw towards Frisk, “This is Frisk. They do not speak, I am afraid, but I have been teaching them to sign, if you are perhaps interested in learning as well.”

Kris’s head perks up slightly, their bangs conveniently falling over both their eyes. They raise one hand, which shakes ever-so-slightly, and hesitantly sign, “ _I already know._ ” Chara gapes at them.

“Oh! Well, that is very convenient, I suppose,” Toriel says. “Although monsters use slightly different signs, there are still some of us that remember human signs as well. I’m sure Frisk would be happy to show you the differences, though, isn’t that right Frisk?”

They give a thumbs up in response.

“All the same, though, they cannot see, so you will have to employ slightly different means of communication if you wish to speak with them,” Toriel explains. “If you do not wish to, or cannot speak, there are plenty of other ways. But, we can discuss that later.” She makes eye contact with Chara from across the table, smiling warmly to counter their immediate grimace at the knowledge of what was coming up next. “Chara, would you care to introduce yourself?”

What is this, the first day of elementary school? Chara groans. “Whatever. My name’s Chara. Which you should already know, since mom just said it, so. Kind of pointless if you ask me,” they grumble, using their fork to jab at their pie crusts a little more roughly than necessary.

Toriel softly sighs, turning back toward Kris, who appears fixated on Chara’s fork. “They can be a bit rough at times, but they are truly good at heart. I’m sure you’ll all be fast friends in due time.”

Chara jabs their plastic fork into the center of their pie, to which Kris to flinches.

 _“Truly good at heart”_. Yeah, sure, whatever.

Annoyed, Chara forcibly interjects, “Hey, mom. Can we give Kris some of that lemonade I made earlier?”

Toriel blinks, surprised by the sudden request. “Oh, well, I suppose, if Kris is up for it. I can only imagine you must be quite parched, after your trip through the ruins.” She looks down at Kris while she says so. “What do you say?”

“Yeah, Kris. It’s _to die for_ ,” Chara ominously says, grinning ear-to-ear while tearing off a chunk of pie with their fork like flesh from a corpse. A small hint of teeth shows as Kris nibbles on their bottom lip, and they look more to Chara’s hands than their face as they slowly nod.

“Then I shall--”

“I’ll go get it,” Chara exclaims, jumping out of their seat and rushing into the kitchen.

While Frisk and Toriel had collaborated on the pie, Frisk helping more than one would expect despite their age and size--seriously, they could barely even hold an egg in one hand--Chara had prepared refreshments behind their backs. A simple recipe that any child could follow--freshly squeezed lemonade, with just the right amount of sugar carefully measured out with a cooking spoon.

Or, at least, that’s how the recipe was _supposed_ to go.

Chara pours out exactly one glass, filled up as far as they thought they could balance without spilling any on the way back--which was quite a lot, not that they were bragging or anything--adding in the final ingredient to their fruity mixture before dutifully carrying it back into the living room. They set the drink next to Kris’s plate with a playful “bon appetite” before settling back into their own chair, chin propped up on the back of their hands with a barely contained grin spreading across their face, lips twitching.

Slowly, Kris glances between the glass and Chara, multiple times over before slowly wrapping one hand around the glass, using their sleeve to protect their skin from the cold. They stare into the glass as if some evil curse will jump out of it and snatch their face or something, lips pressed together uncomfortably tight. It seems like they may never actually build up the nerve to so much as open their mouth, when all of a sudden they’ve tipped the glass back and taken a generous sip.

A sip that ends almost as abruptly as it began.

Chara’s grin widens victoriously as they spot Kris’s right eye, the one less covered by their hair, shoot open wide in shock, and while it’s still a bit hard to tell, they think they can see a bright, golden brown iris. With their lips twisted into a grimace Kris sets the glass down with all the intensity of an adult doing shots, their eye watering as their free hand shoots up to cover their mouth. It takes them a while, but they eventually manage to swallow it, forcibly re-adopting their stoic, expressionless face from before, albeit with their lips noticeably twitching.

“Oh my, are you alright?” Toriel asks, watching Kris with concern in her eyes.

Shifting uncomfortably, Kris eventually nods in such a way that says it is very much not all right, but they sign, “ _Peachy_.”

With a malicious grin, Chara starts swinging their legs and says, “One could say that the taste is _indescribable_ , right, Frisk?” To Kris’s surprise, Frisk makes a sound almost like a snort or a snicker, covering their mouth to hide the expression on their face. “So, you like it, right? I made it just for you, _Krissy_.”

Tapping their fingers on the table, Kris tenses, a noticeable shudder travelling down their spine. They nod once, in a very unconvincing, sideways sort of way, and to Chara’s shock they pick up the glass and begin to chug. And chug, and chug, until the entire glass is empty. They’re nearly in tears by the time it’s over, face contorted in a horrible grimace as shudders wrack their body but they pretend to ignore all that in favor of apparent normalcy.

Chara gapes.

 _What a fucking power move_.

At this point, Toriel has clearly realized something is up, her eyes narrowing and lips pursed in a stern expression. “Chara. Did you put salt in the lemonade?”

Feigning offense, Chara throws a hand dramatically over where their heart should be. “Who, me? Why, mother dearest, why would you think such a thing? I’m hurt.”

With a small huff, Toriel says, “I sure hope you did not make an entire jug of lemonade just for this. Because if I have to pour it out, you are going to get the lemons to replace it yourself.”

“My lemonade is perfectly fine!” Chara defends. “Why, to taint such a beautiful mixture would be the gravest sin.”

Toriel narrows her eyes. “I see. Then I suppose you would have no trouble serving some for the rest of us?”

“None at all!” Chara says in their best attempt at an angelic voice. They innocently bat their eyelashes, playing up their cuteness with their pink cheeks and wide, round eyes. It doesn’t work, of course, but they don’t end up getting grounded or anything either, so they consider it a win.


	2. lofi radio: beats to relax and study to

Following the interlude of butterscotch cinnamon pie, the three show Kris to their bedroom, pointing out the bed on the left side, which Toriel had once purchased to accommodate Chara’s return. However, the bed hadn’t been slept in in months, with Chara instead preferring to bunk with Frisk.

Toriel hadn’t questioned it, although it had been clear she found it questionable anyway; Chara had never requested such a thing with he who shall not be named, after all. But she also didn’t know how Chara had been riding backseat to Frisk’s consciousness for longer than Toriel had known them, so of course she wouldn’t understand the need for closeness.

It just felt weird. Like they were once two parts of a whole, and it was just unnatural to change that. Even if it _was_ pretty sweet to get to do things like eat chocolate first hand.

Plus, Frisk was tiny and slept like a rock, so it wasn’t exactly annoying to share a bed with them. The other bed had been left out anyway for the sake of choice, should Chara ever desire privacy. It hadn’t happened yet, but it had still been an option. Until now, that is.

Kris stuck very close by Toriel, allowing themself to be led around by the hand and never once attempting to part from her. Silent, they look where they’re directed to look, nod when they’re expected to nod, and overall appear very uninterested in everything they’re shown. When Toriel suggests they take a nap, their lip curls slightly downwards, which Chara has trouble interpreting; are they annoyed? Confused? Displeased??? In the end, though, they remain steadfastly by Toriel’s side, which she interprets as their refusal, one which she readily accepts before leading everyone back out into the living room.

Toriel goes through the motions of explaining the household routine to Kris. On a normal day, after Toriel had returned from tending to the golden flowers, both to water them and to look out for fallen children, afternoon classes would begin. Given the age disparity, things could get a little complicated; Frisk was two years Chara’s junior, so they couldn’t exactly be given the same lesson plan. On top of that, Frisk needed special attention, and yet, it hadn’t been any sort of problem so far; Toriel was good at teaching, and managed to make equal time for the both of them, while still getting her lessons across properly. It was pretty amazing, not that Chara would ever say it aloud.

Although they supposed it was a bit easy mode-ish; Frisk was still learning basic math, and Chara wasn’t exactly reading monster Shakespeare or curing cancer or whatever. They were easy lessons to teach. Kris, on the other hand…

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, Kris?” Toriel politely asks. Chara nearly rolls their eyes; since when was it at all offensive to ask someone their age? It wasn’t like Kris was an old woman or anything.

Kris responds by holding up one finger, then four. So they _were_ a teenager, after all. Just barely, but still.

“I see! So you would be in the ninth grade, then? I’ll be sure to research a good lesson plan for you,” Toriel optimistically promises. She would, too; Chara could vividly picture her surrounded by books and papers, frantically taking notes and writing up lessons to give to Kris. She’d probably have a full stack of textbooks under her arm the next time she returned from a shopping trip.

“For today, how would you like to sit in on our lessons? You don’t have to, of course,” Toriel suggests.

There’s some hesitation, as Kris glances between Toriel, the other two children, and the dining table they assumed the lessons would be taking place at, but eventually they manage a slow but steady nod. Toriel smiles, pleased.

The four of them yet again gather around the dining table, Chara sitting on their legs to gain the extra height they like to look down over their schoolwork. Uncertain, Kris takes the remaining chair, one noticeably larger than the two Chara and Frisk had chosen yet otherwise identical. This time, though, they sit cross-legged, hands clasped around their ankle. Chara watches them, noting some small, hardly noticeable from a distance holes in Kris’s leggings, mostly around the stitching and knees.

Lessons go by pretty normally, Kris’s presence fading into the background as the other children become too absorbed in their assigned tasks and Toriel’s instructions to focus on much else. Even with Kris’s eyes following them all around with rapt curiosity, it’s easy to forget they’re there at all.  
  
  
  


While they work, Kris pays close attention, noting the way Toriel splits her attention between teaching Frisk to read braille and helping Chara get through a book Kris doesn’t recognize. They both seem perfectly capable of operating on their own, Frisk absorbing Toriel’s teachings like a sponge and Chara remaining silent throughout their reading. Although, how much of that was actual knowledge and how much was stubbornness, Kris couldn’t be sure.

Hours flew by, subjects changing every hour or so, mostly things an eighth grader would know perfectly well, with the exception of the history lesson. That one consists entirely of monster history. The lesson is exactly the same for both students, and Kris finds themself hanging off of every word. They’d never heard of monsters, not real ones--it felt surreal knowing how much had been completely erased from history.

To be honest, they still weren’t sure they hadn’t actually died after they fell down the mountain.

School ends abruptly, or so it seems, snapping Kris out of a daze. Toriel congratulates the two children on their hard work, petting Frisk like one might a dog while Chara rolls their eyes at the compliment. The three begin putting everything away, Toriel politely asking if Kris might like to assist, to which they respond by picking up some books and carrying them over to where they saw the other two storing stuff.

The shorter one--Chara--eyes them as they approach, blood red eyes narrowed in a suspicious glare. Or so they think. It’s not a nice look, at least, they can tell that much. They avoid eye contact, setting the books down next to the rest. However, nearly immediately afterwards, Chara adjusts them to match the symmetry of the rest of the pile, shooting Kris a look with raised eyebrows and hooded eyes.

Kris can feel their lips press tighter together, chest constricting. They ignore it.

When Frisk puts their stuff away, even without being able to see any of it they feel around with their hands, adjusting things until everything is neat and orderly. Right. So Chara was just… teaching them. No big deal. It’s no big deal.

Toriel sits down to read, leaving her children to do as they please. Kris checks between Frisk and Chara, intending to follow their lead while still unsure on if their presence would even be appreciated. The dynamic between the two is clear; Frisk sticks to Chara’s side, one hand on the sleeve of their green and yellow striped jumper, looking to them to decide on what they’d be doing. Noticing Kris standing awkwardly nearby, Chara glares at them out of the corner of their eyes for several long seconds before flicking briefly back to Toriel. With a huff the child turns on their heel and walks off, Frisk right at their heel.

Kris follows.

The two exit the house, the door slamming in Kris’s face before they can even get close. It isn’t quite loud enough to capture Toriel’s attention, but it’s more than loud enough to be startling, Kris’s heart thumping harshly against the strict confines of their chest. With a shaking hand they reach out, slowly twisting the door knob.

The two children are at the far end of Toriel’s front yard--or so Kris assumes that’s what it is, considering it was directly in front of her house and had a tree in it--dashing quickly out of view. Despite the rush, Kris is careful to close the door with the knob still turned, gently turning it back in the opposite direction before letting it go, resulting in a perfectly silent door close. Once that’s done, they wander off in the direction they last saw the two children.  
  
  
  


While they walk, Chara feels a tapping on the back of their hand. They almost turn to check on Frisk, before realizing the tapping is oddly specific, and they focus on it, struggling to remember the pattern of the first few taps. Thankfully, Frisk has the clarity to tap the message multiple times.

“ _Where are we going?_ ” They ask, or, at least, that’s what Chara can interpret their much shorter message as.

Chara hums, head held high. In truth? They had no idea where they were going. But wandering the ruins seemed like the best way to get the weird kid to buzz off. After all, Toriel had likely brought them straight home, instead of making them stand around in an empty room for who knows how long, forcing them to find their own way home. It was nice to see her learning from her mistakes, Chara thought bitterly.

“I’unno,” Chara admits with a lazy shrug. They feel Frisk lower their hand from Chara’s sleeve to their hand. Chara wraps theirs around Frisk’s, the child’s tiny hand fitting perfectly inside. “Got anywhere you wanna go?”

Frisk’s lips purse together in thought. A minute or so later and Frisk perks up suddenly, their mouth popping open in a wide “O” shape. Excitedly, they start tapping out some letters on Chara’s hand, which they quickly recognize. They sigh. Loudly.

“Okay, fine,” Chara groans. “You don’t even know that they’ll be there, though.”

Frisk taps out the letters i-d-k, to which Chara raises a brow.

“I’m starting to regret teaching you morse code,” Chara grumbles, peeking back at Frisk to see them smirk. _The smug little brat_.

Now with a destination in mind, Chara leads Frisk deeper into the Ruins at a much quicker pace, taking wide steps that Frisk is easily able to match. At this point, Frisk knew the area like the back of their hand, so Chara didn’t bother warning them about turns and puzzles; they already knew. After passing through several rooms, they eventually come to a puzzle room, purposefully falling through one of the traps to drift safely onto the red leaves below.

The two children brush the leaves off their bodies before standing up, Chara glancing around the room in search of the monster they were looking for. And, sure enough, they were right where the children expected them to be, laid horizontally across the bed of leaves, their black streaks that were _probably_ eyes pointed in the children’s direction.

“oh….. hello………” The ghost mumbles, remaining stationary on the stone floor. Frisk perks up, recognizing the voice, and wanders over to its source, patting along the ground to find the perfect spot to lay down next to Napstablook.

Rather than join them, Chara plops down into the leaves, legs crossed with their chin propped in their hand. They adopt a bored expression while the human and ghost monster briefly converse, before the two opt instead to stare up at the ceiling, entirely motionless. Frisk has that look on their face, the flat look where most of their facial features were just straight lines. The one they usually had on, the one they wouldn’t change from at the beginning of their time in the Underground, too guarded. Except now they were totally relaxed, lying in the leaves with their friend, probably thinking about galaxies and music like they did before, when Chara was there to witness it with them.

While they laid on the ground feeling like garbage, Chara searched for something else to entertain themself with. Scattering the leaves and attempting to stack them as high as possible was entertaining for maybe half a minute tops. Resisting the urge to groan, making their boredom known, they fall back into the leaves, spread out like they wanted to make a snow angel, or rather, a leaf angel.

Up above them they can see the hole they fell through, which had yet to be patched back up by whoever it was that operated these particular puzzles. They were sure Toriel hadn’t had a hand in making or maintaining these; she probably wouldn’t have set up spikes everywhere. Maybe they’d ask her about it later.

Right as they were about to roll over, they spot a set of legs walking by on the floor above them, pausing next to the hole. Two long, thin, black legs. With no shoes on.

Chara sighs.

They push themself up off the ground. “Hey, Frisk, I’m gonna go take a walk. Wait here.”

Frisk looks over at them with worry drawn across their features, a look which quickly vanishes to be replaced with utter neutrality. They hold up a thumb to show they understand. As Chara draws themself up to their feet, they mumble a few more reassurances that they’d be back soon--Frisky wasn’t fooling anybody with that fake stoicism--before darting out of the room and up to the main floor.

As expected, Kris is meandering around the area, their legs locked into straight lines while they attempt to peer down into the hole in the not-so-subtly fake, net flooring. They don’t seem to notice a thing as Chara drops through the opening in the wall, landing silently on their feet with a cat-like agility. Instinctively, Chara thinks to say something, to demand to know why Kris followed them and what the hell they think they’re doing. They think to take the opportunity to intimidate them, to let them know who the boss is around here, or perhaps to grill them, find out what’s going on in their head.

But, a much better idea occurs to them. So, instead of saying anything, Chara waits, watching as Kris starts to look at a different section of trap flooring. Chara grins.

With no warning, they rush at Kris’s back, shoving them over like some kind of quarterback and watching as Kris rag-dolls through a Kris-shaped hole in the floor. They can’t help but snicker, watching the way Kris goes totally limp, dropping to the ground like a puppet with their strings cut, laughing at how easy it had been to knock them over. There’s a gentle _thump_ as Kris hits the ground, along with the crinkling of leaves flying into the air only for gravity to drag them back down, covering Kris.

Chara crouches over the opening, staring down at the teen as they erupt with laughter, pressing their hand over their mouth in a feeble attempt to mask the sounds. They blink through their tears of laughter, nearly cackling at Kris’s misfortune. The teen themself remains entirely motionless, never moving an inch for the entire duration of Chara’s laughing fit.

Once the giggles start to die down though, they grow a little… concerned. Kris is… really not moving. From this height, they can’t even tell if the human is still breathing. They can’t drag them into a FIGHT at such a distance to check on their SOUL, either. And, god, if they just killed the new human child…

Well, Toriel would be mad. Frisk would probably be a little less than pleased, as well. But… well, Asgore only needed one more soul anyway, right? It wasn’t like anyone had had the time to get too attached, either.

Absently, they feel as if that train of thought should be a little more alarming, but they can’t find it in them to actually care. Regardless, they stick their legs down through the rather large hole, dropping down into the leaves with a lot more grace than Kris, who had face-planted. Hands on their hips, they lean to one side, peering down at the human, who… might not be breathing? Maybe? Was that even possible? Could a human who fell all the way down a mountain really be bested by--

A hand shoots out and grabs their ankle, fingers spread wide and nails digging in with desperation, and Chara... reacts. By shrieking. At the top of their lungs. They kick their leg, and the hand relinquishes them, causing them to trip and fall backwards. They ignore the pain, though, their mind suddenly reeling with thoughts of “Oh god, it’s a zombie, I didn’t think they were real but oh god who even KNOWS what’s real anymore--” when suddenly, they see…

Kris. Raised up on their elbows, chin propped on the backs of their hands, one leg bent backwards and swinging like they were just at a slumber party, reading magazines on their friend’s bed. They stare at Chara, tilting their head innocently once they see Chara’s noticed them. It takes awhile for Chara’s heart to calm down and their brain to catch up to the reality of the situation, and when it does, the rush of reactionary emotion is indescribable.

“You--You--!” Chara stutters, in complete disbelief, voice raising in octave to a screechy degree. They sit up, legs curling half into a criss-cross position. “I can’t believe this! How--You--”

After a brief serious of incredulous scoffs, huffs, and miscellaneous noises, a shadow falls over Chara’s eyes. Kris seems to recognize the sudden shift, their leg going still, shoulders tense.

Sneering, Chara gets to their feet, establishing some height dominance. “I hope you know, this means war,” they growl.

Kris gapes at them.

“I won’t let you humiliate me like this, Krissy,” Chara spits. They glare down their nose at Kris, who seems torn between taking them seriously or not. Chara narrows their eyes, “You better sleep with one eye open.”

The tension drains out of Kris’s shoulders, the shock on their face replaced with a subtle look of interest before shifting into a look Chara finds strangely familiar, in a way that they don’t feel like thinking too much about. Despite the bangs shielding the top half of their face, Chara can sense the determination in Kris’s gaze as the teen nods once, ready to rise to the challenge.

“Good. Now, you’d better get out of those leaves. They’re poisonous,” Chara says, turning away with their arms crossed. Kris’s mouth falls back open in shock, and they stare back down at the leaves for a weirdly long period of time before pulling themself up, batting away the stray leaves from their clothes. Their overall lack of franticness in getting out of the supposedly deadly leaves ruins the fun, however, causing Chara to sigh in irritation before saying, “I’m joking, idiot.”

Grumbling, Chara climbs out of the trap room without stopping to check for Kris’s reaction.  
  
  
  


Back on the main floor, Chara finds Frisk standing in the center of the room, alone. Frowning, Chara darts over to them, the brown-haired child turning in the direction of their footsteps.

“Frisk, what are you doing? I told you to wait for me,” Chara says, the displeasure clear in their tone.

Unperturbed by the anger in their voice, Frisk signs, “ _I heard you scream like a dying animal._ ”

Oh. Yeah, huh. “Uh… don’t worry about that.” They reach out and put their hands on their partner’s shoulders in a comforting gesture. Somewhere behind them, Kris falls out of the wall exit, faceplanting on the stone floor. Frisk flinches at the sound, while Chara just stares dispassionately at Kris’s limp, lifeless body. Nope, not falling for that again.

“Don’t worry about that, either,” Chara says, in regards to the sound of Kris eating shit on the stone floor. They turn back to Frisk. “Are you done visiting Napstablook?”

Frisk tilts their head up and to the side, lips pursed, considering their response. After a few moments they angle their head back in the direction of Chara, and start to sign. “ _I kind of wanted to ask them some more stuff. You know, about…_ ”

Chara clasps both of Frisk’s hands, silencing them. Leaning in close to Frisk’s ear, they whisper, “We have a captive audience. Kris followed us.”

Frisk opens their mouth in an “O”, nodding their understanding. Chara leans back, lowering their still-connected hands before turning, head tilted back as they stare down their nose at Kris, who is several inches taller than them, but still. The teen remains by the wall exit, legs perfectly straight but back slouching, fingers lightly grasping each other in front of their lap. They stare down at the floor in the general direction of the two fallen children, which Chara can’t help but find vaguely threatening or eerie somehow.

Not at all caring that Frisk is there to hear--they’d have to be exposed to this at some point, anyway--Chara calls, “Hey, weirdo! Go home. We didn’t invite you to follow us.”

Frisk’s head shoots up in shock.

Kris’s lips part, body locking up for a few long, tense moments. Eventually, they lower their head, dejected, hair falling forward to cover the entirety of their face. Tugging on their bottom lip with their teeth, they mechanically walk forward, past the two children and toward the door that would eventually lead them back to Toriel’s house.

Chara glares at them as they leave, fingers tightening ever-so-slightly around Frisk’s hands almost possessively, when, suddenly, Frisk’s hands are pulled away. Surprised, Chara watches as Frisk darts away, practically throwing themself at Kris, their chubby arms encircling the teen’s waist. Kris tenses up, turning into the human equivalent of a cardboard box, shoulders squared and upper arms clenched tightly against their sides. Frisk doesn’t seem to get the memo and just hugs harder, like they can cuddle the discomfort away.

_Not this time, Frisky._

Before Frisk can waste any more time on their pointless affection, Chara sighs, plucking Frisk off of Kris like a kitten. “Come on, Frisk. Let’s go talk to Napstablook.”

Frisk pouts, but otherwise gives in, allowing themself to be lead away from Kris. The dark haired teen visibly relaxes afterwards, wrapping their arms around their torso before speed walking out of the room.

Once they’re gone, Chara turns back to Frisk, who’s head is tilted like it usually is when they’re lost in thought. “What’s up, Frisky?”

“ _I don’t think Kris likes hugs_ ,” Frisk signs.

“Not everyone does,” Chara reminds them. “I’m sure they appreciate the thought, though.” _I couldn’t care less_. “Let’s go talk to Napstablook, okay?”  
  
  
  


“oh….. i dont really know……… sorry………………”

Frisk’s face falls, and they slump against the wall, where the two of them--Frisk and Napstablook, that is--have taken to sitting. Which, for Napstablook, meant their lower half was folded under them, like a pillow. So far the conversation hadn’t really gone anywhere, which was an even bigger disappointment for Chara than usual, considering they actually wanted to know the answer to Frisk’s questions.

“ _That’s okay_ ,” Frisk signs.

Chara leans forward from their spot sitting cross-legged opposite Frisk, chin propped in one hand while the other taps an irregular rhythm into their leg. They can’t think of a way to ask Napstablook anything that doesn’t sound strange, and neither can Frisk, it seems. While Chara would love to just jump up and ask some really direct questions, they didn’t want to have to answer the counter-questions that would spring forth as a result.

Frisk is a bit better at it, feigning--well, not really _feigning_ , they did care, but--an interest in the world outside the Ruins in order to get some info from the only monster that ever went between the Ruins and the rest of the Underground. It usually worked, although not in the kind of detail either of them craved. It was better than nothing, though.

Not long after, the children left, with a small promise to meet again soon to listen to some of Napstablook’s new music, which Frisk genuinely adored. There wasn’t much in the way of electronic entertainment in the Ruins, much less in Toriel’s house itself. They wondered if the ghost could possibly bring them something to play music on, so they could listen to it back at home.

On their way back, they stopped by the spider bake sale that never seemed to go away, Frisk buying some cider while Chara grabs two donuts. When Frisk shoots them a curious glance, having heard their order, Chara grins devilishly and says, “It’s a peace offering. You know, for Kris?”

Frisk smiles at that, completely unaware of the glint in Chara’s eye. Depositing their cider in their inventory, Frisk signs, “ _I’m glad you decided to apologize_.”

Chara’s eyebrow twitches--apologize? For _what_?--but they don’t mention it, letting Frisk believe whatever they want.

They arrive home just in time for Toriel to announce she’s starting dinner. By default Frisk volunteers to help, their steps heavy as they rush after Toriel, who giggles at their enthusiasm, leaning down slightly to lay a hand on their back, guiding them. Chara steps into the living room to see Kris, curled up by the fireplace, one leg pulled in close with the other stretched out across the floor. They’re staring down at their feet, presumably zoned out, if Chara were to guess.

“Hey, weirdo,” Chara calls, making sure to remain just quiet enough to be out of earshot of Toriel. “I got you something.”

Kris lifts their head up, slowly, lips pressed into a flat line. They were sure to be suspicious, Chara thought, but if the lemonade were any indication, they wouldn’t back down. They reach into their inventory--or their pocket, from Kris’s point of view--and grab the spider donut, tossing it at Kris with a quick “Catch!” halfway through the donut being launched and smacking Kris directly in the face. Kris barely reacts, letting the donut bounce off their face and onto their leg with little more than a slight flinch. They stare down at the dessert, face impassive.

“It’s a donut. Frisky and I stopped by to grab some on our way home,” Chara explains.

Kris lifts the confectionery between their thumb and forefinger, like it was diseased or something, holding it up in front of their face. Curious, Chara leans in, noticing the way Kris’s bangs part, with their head at just the right angle to see their right eye, which Chara can more confidently confirm the color of. It’s more yellow than brown, which they find especially interesting. It’s also extremely droopy, like they were half asleep, with deeper and darker eye bags than Chara’d ever seen on a fourteen year old.

Despite their scrutiny, Kris ends up plopping some of the donut in their mouth anyway, taking a smile bite and chewing slowly, like they were savoring it, or analyzing it, or both. Eventually, they swallow, a pleased look sweeping across their face. Chara takes that as their cue to ask, “Do you like it?”

Kris nods.

“Good! Because it’s made of spiders.”

Kris stills. A wide grin breaks out across Chara’s face, Kris lowering their gaze to the dessert held delicately between their fingers. A single black spider crawls out from the bite mark, skittering across Kris’s hand. They tense up, freezing to such a degree that it’s hard to tell if they’re even breathing anymore.

Chara can hardly contain their excitement.

Then, suddenly, Kris reaches out with their free hand, lifting the stray spider up by one of it’s many legs. Smile vanishing, Chara watches with rapt attention as Kris brings the spider to their mouth and pops it inside, like a piece of candy. They chew, face completely neutral with no hints of discomfort anywhere on their person, as Chara stares on in shock.

God.

 _Dammit_.

Kris continues eating the remainder of the donut, taking tiny bites like they were a squirrel or something, as Chara stalks off to the kitchen, annoyed and defeated.  
  
  
  


Despite Kris being fourteen, they’re put to bed at the same time as the other children. While Toriel would stay up reading by the fireplace for another hour or so, the kids were supposed to be sleeping, or at least pretending to be while spending hours talking or playing games of pretend in the low light provided by Frisk’s phone.

Toriel tucks everyone in, which Kris doesn’t object to, although they did seem surprised by it--which was what Chara interpreted them opening their mouth a fraction of an inch as. She finished by smoothing down Kris’s dark brown hair, a gesture she repeated with each child in turn, starting with Frisk. Once that was done, she bid everyone a collective good night, switched off the lights, and left, leaving the door open a crack.

Chara peeks out from under the blanket at Kris, who is laid in the exact center of the bed, arms perfectly at their sides with the blanket tucked around them. They stare up at the ceiling, rather than try to actually sleep. Chara tries not to think too hard about that part; they’d been living on the surface not all that long ago, it wasn’t unreasonable to think they’d have trouble adjusting. The rest of it, though, that’s weird.

Ignoring that, Chara dives under the covers, and Frisk is already there, laid on their side, facing Chara. They reach out with one hand and poke Frisk in the cheek, causing them to jump a little before squirming in discomfort.

“Hey,” Chara whispers, as quietly as they possibly can to avoid being overheard. “What do you think about Kris?”

Frisk tilts their head, cheek brushing against the cotton sheets. They dig around in the pockets of their shorts, eventually pulling out their cellphone, the one Toriel had given them. It’s an ancient model, or at least, Frisk--among others--had claimed it was.The screen is tiny and tinted green, but when Frisk switches it on, it casts a small greenish glow that illuminates their faces just enough to make out the details, so it’s not totally useless. Frisk sets the device down between them, using the light to make their signs visible.

“ _I’m not sure_ ,” Frisk signs. “ _We should try to get to know them better_.”

“Uh, ‘we’?” Chara opens their mouth to say something else, but Frisk interrupts them by booping the tip of Chara’s nose with their finger.

“ _Let’s ask them to play with us tomorrow_ ,” Frisk suggests. “ _Then maybe we can show them to all the different monsters in the Ruins._ ”

Chara cringes. “Baby steps, Frisky.”

“ _Play date, then._ ”

With a sigh, Chara reaches out and gently slaps their hands against Frisk’s cheeks. “Whatever floats your boat. Just don’t expect me to play nice if they get, like, really really weird.”

“ _I expect you to play nice anyway_ ,” Frisk signs with a smug grin on their face.

“God, slave driver,” Chara quips, relishing in Frisk’s silent giggling. “No promises, okay?”

“ _Try_ ,” Frisk signs, before switching off their phone and tucking it under their pillow. Immediately afterwards, they wrap their arms around Chara, holding on tight with their face buried in Chara’s reddish-brown hair. Chara rolls their eyes at the display of affection, adjusting the blankets to rest below their chins so they don’t suffocate overnight before returning the hug.

“Night, Frisk.”


	3. not too old not too young

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a shorter chapter (or it feels shorter, at least) but I feel like it's been too long since I last updated this and I've been sitting on this for awhile, so, uh, here it is? side note, I updated the last two chapters to edit some spelling mistakes and such, because, like, god was I drunk when I was typing those or what, so embarrassing

The following morning, or whatever passed for it in the Underground, Chara woke to find the bed opposite theirs already empty, the sheets messily pushed back. Suspicious, but not wanting to leave Frisk to wake up alone, they go back to sleep--the kid had shown no murderous intent, after all, it wasn’t like they’d kill Toriel behind their backs or anything.

…Right?

Okay, so the “go back to sleep” thing was a total farce, the paranoia eating away at them like an intestinal parasite. They shake Frisk by the shoulders, rousing them without too much trouble, although Chara would’ve really preferred it went by a lot quicker; for all they knew, they were short on time, and they had no idea when the last time Frisk had had the chance to SAVE was.

Frisk makes a barely audible sleepy noise, reaching up to rub at their eyelids, indicating they were awake now. With their remaining hand, they sign the MSL equivalent of a question mark.

“Kris is missing, and I don’t trust them, let’s go look,” Chara hastily explains. Frisk’s brows furrow in what Chara interprets as skepticism, but they still agree to get up following some yawns and limb stretches.

Chara quickly throws on their day clothes, tossing their pajamas into the middle of the floor without a care. Despite the urgency, Frisk still takes the time to pick up said clothes and set them on the bed, which Chara can sort of forgive considering Frisk usually slept in their day clothes, something Toriel only allowed due to Frisk’s sensory issues, and therefore didn’t have to change.

Hand-in-hand, Chara bursts out of the bedroom like a cop breaking down someone’s front door, rushing into the living room in search of either their fluffy goat mom, or the weirdo spider-eating human. Neither were there, and the fireplace wasn’t even lit, which was reassuring insofar as Toriel’s survivability went. A lit fireplace usually meant Toriel was up.

The kitchen had no one in it, as well, everything more or less identical to the way it was the day prior.

Frisk taps the word “bath” into Chara’s hand, and so the two check there next, finding an unlocked door with no lights on and no humans lurking in the dark depths.There’s nothing to suggest anyone was there recently, so the two move back out into the hallway. This time, Frisk only has to tap out a “T” for Chara to understand. They try the door to Toriel’s room, and the door swings open with ease to reveal Toriel, fast asleep in her queen-sized bed. With a grand sigh of relief, Chara closes the door.

“ _Maybe they went outside_ ,” Frisk signs.

“Why, though?” Chara responds, keeping their voice low lest Toriel hear them. “They don’t even know how to FIGHT. Unless Toriel showed them the Dummy, I guess, but…”

“ _She probably did. It’ll be fine, Chara_. _They probably just went for a walk or something._ ”

Chara sighs, their fatigue and the weight of their own paranoid logic crashing down around them. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Frisk.”

Frisk beams at them, although a certain edge of exhaustion clouds their expression, and so Chara suggests they go back to bed. Their own eyes were burning as well; it was way too early. Whatever Kris was up to, it didn’t matter. The little weirdo could wait.

  
  


By the time Toriel came in to wake them up, Kris had returned to their bed, which Chara trusted so much less than the alternative, whispering conspiratorially into Frisk’s ear. They couldn’t help but agree with their partner on this one; the situation left them feeling a little apprehensive.

While Chara changes out of their sleep clothes, Frisk and Kris head for the bathroom. Frisk notes the sound of Kris’s socks scraping across the wood floor. The sound alone was enough to tell them that Kris clearly wasn’t a morning person; they walked differently the day prior, more like a toy soldier, rather than the zombie shuffle they were doing now.

They enter the bathroom separately from Kris. Searching the cup by the sink, they find three toothbrushes, with one much larger than the rest. So Toriel hadn’t had the time to get anything for Kris, it seems. They reach for the one with the thicker, more rubbery handle to brush their teeth with. Chara shows up not long after, bursting the door down like they could afford to replace it--with Toriel loudly chastising them in the background--to brush their teeth and hair, both of which they rushed, easily satisfied.

Due to their tardiness, Frisk finishes first, using their spare time to check Chara’s sweater, specifically the back of the neck where the outline of a delta rune was stitched. It was on the inside this time, where it should be, so Frisk takes a step back, waiting for Chara to finish up.

There was breakfast waiting for them in the living room, the delicious fresh smell wafting into the hallway. It smelled like pancakes, and Frisk had to try their best not to run the rest of the way to the living room, eager for some of Toriel’s amazingly fluffy pancakes. Instead, they matched pace with Chara, forcing a neutral expression onto their face.

As expected, a plate of fluffy, fruit filled pancakes awaited them, along with some chocolate chip ones for Chara. Somewhere toward the center of the table was another plate, smelling of both fruit and chocolate. Once all three children were seated at the table, Toriel explains to Kris that she wasn’t sure of their preference, hadn’t had the chance to ask, and therefore made a variety for them to choose from. Frisk idly wonders what they’ll choose, although they aren’t sure how they’re gonna figure it out, exactly.

Several long moments later, a cold hand grips theirs from the right--Chara--and starts signing one-handed. “ _Oh my god they picked the chocolate ones_ ,” Chara signs, and Frisk can feel the annoyance vibrating off of them. Frisk resists the urge to laugh, stuffing some pancake into their mouth instead. It tastes like warmth and love.

Under the embrace of Chara’s hand, they sign back, “ _Just like you!_ ”

Chara audibly scoffs. “ _Shut up! They’re gonna take all of them!_ ”

The meal proceeds fairly normally, despite the addition of Kris. The teen doesn’t call attention to themself, and Toriel’s attempts to converse with them don’t seem to succeed, if the way Toriel and Chara react are any indication.

After the meal, Kris, to Toriel’s surprise, wordlessly offers to help do dishes. Frisk hesitates; would volunteering get them any closer to Kris, or would it make them uncomfortable? Not to mention, Toriel might reject their help, considering an adult goat monster and a fourteen year old should be more than enough to clean a few plates.

Not only that, but… Frisk didn’t really _want_ to help this time, considering the presence of maple syrup. That stuff was like a sticky hand curse that never went away, no matter how much you washed your hands afterwards. They’d have done it anyway though, if only to make Toriel happy.

In the hallway, the two children gather their shoes, preparing to head outside. At first, Frisk brushes hands with something with a horribly rough, almost dusty texture to it which Chara immediately moves out of their reach, sliding Frisk’s cowboy boots in front of them instead.

“You don’t want those,” Chara warns. “Those are Kris’s shoes.”

Frisk’s lips part, curious, but they nod in understanding.

It doesn’t take long for Kris to exit the kitchen, alone, likely having been gently guided away by Toriel with some sort of “I can handle the rest, now run along and play” or something. She was kind like that.

With Frisk’s cowboy boots and Chara’s oxfords on, the two approach Kris, who stands stock-still in the archway, one hand on the wood frame.

Frisk reaches out, grabbing onto Kris’s sleeve and feeling down it to get to the teen’s hand. Their skin is sweaty, trembling the way an elderly human’s might, and Frisk can feel how horribly tense Kris is by the way their arm locks up on contact. Yet, they don’t move away, and Frisk offers them a tiny smile of approval, which they hope Kris can see.

Slowly, they raise Kris’s hand, surprised by how limp and lifeless they felt despite how tense they clearly were, more like a cloth doll than a human being. Ignoring that they begin signing one-handed, knowing Kris could see them but wanting to demonstrate a way for them to talk back.

“ _Do you want to come play with us?_ ” Frisk asks with a small, inquisitive tilt of their head. Toriel had taught them the importance of body language even while signing, and they tried their best to do what she taught them whenever they could remember to do so.

They can infer from the way Kris’s sweater moves that they’ve turned slightly away, likely looking to Chara, who was at Frisk’s right. And, sure enough, they soon hear Chara’s sardonic voice saying, “Just sign back, idiot. It’s not hard.”

If they could, Frisk would have rolled their eyes at that.

Hesitantly, Kris moves their hand as if expecting Frisk’s hand to fall away afterwards, but instead, Frisk’s grip remains steady, yet gentle, fingers intertwined around Kris’s. There’s another moment of hesitation before Kris slowly begins to sign something, which Frisk easily decodes as being “ _hello_ ”. They smile, finding the tentative, experimental signing endearing, and readjust their hand in order to sign back, guiding Kris’s fingers to follow their gestures through a simple return greeting.

“Not that this isn’t great and all,” Chara starts, and Frisk can hear the gentle tapping of their oxfords on the wood floor. “But can we hurry this up?”

Frisk nods in Chara’s direction, before turning back to Kris. They repeat their earlier question, just to properly bring them back to the earlier topic. Kris shakily signs back a “ _sure”_ , to which Frisk just barely manages not to smile or otherwise display their joy at Kris’s response.

“Yeah, cool,” Chara grumbles, in the voice Frisk had come to associate with their partner’s impatience, but also their anxiety. Maybe they were reading them wrong, but it still had them wondering what that meant. “Put on your shoes and let’s go.”

The three head outside, Frisk’s boots clacking against the stone floors. They hear the sharp click of Chara’s oxfords, betraying their otherwise light footsteps. The fallen child walks with a wide stance, confident and strong, as if they were ready to kick down a door or trample their enemies. Which they hoped Chara would be doing neither of, especially that second part. Some of the monsters in the Ruins could be quite fragile.

The door closes behind them with a near inaudible click. The carefully measured, steady sound of Kris’s footsteps is expected, although the scrape of fabric on stone isn’t.

“ _Shoes_?” They sign, hoping anyone sees it.

“Yeah, Kris, what the fuck? I told you to put shoes on,” Chara pipes up. Moments later, Chara scoffs like they’d just heard something supremely idiotic, and their head whips around in Frisk’s direction. “They said they didn’t want to!”

“ _You’ll get hurt_ ,” Frisk signs, genuinely concerned. Walking nearly barefoot on stone sounded like a bad--a not good time. Especially when they intended to do a lot of movement.

“Don’t shrug!” Chara snaps, presumably at Kris since Frisk hadn’t moved, incredulous. “You know what? Fine. Don’t listen to me. Just don’t come crying to me when your feet start bleeding!”

There doesn’t seem to be any response from Kris, although there is a bit of tension hanging in the air. Frisk sighs. This might be harder than they expected.

  
  


Non-surprisingly, Kris turns out to be absolutely horrible at the “playing” thing. Per Frisk’s instruction--since this was all THEIR idea, after all--they start off with something simple. A ball, modified with several tiny bells rolling around inside, kicked around between the three of them. Anyone could do that, right?

Oh so wrong.

Whenever the ball came anywhere near Kris, they just stood there, and either the ball went right past them and bounced off a nearby wall, or it actually managed to connect with their leg, ricocheting off of them. That was rare, though. A few times, Chara actually caught them purposefully stepping out of the way, shuffling half an inch to the side to let the ball fly right past them.

They tried a few more activities after that; improvised games of soccer, dodgeball played with a padded ball that was more pillow than ball (Frisk’s idea, of course, Chara never saw the point to that game if no one came away from it with a few bruises), a game of tag, and so on. In each and every single one, Kris found a way to underperform, or to not perform at all.

They step out of the way of the ball during soccer (despite being the goalie). They allow themself to be pelted during dodgeball, during which Frisk had to step in before Chara could just start beating Kris over the head. They stand around watching while the other two chase each other, refusing to participate even after Frisk had tagged them, causing the game to end prematurely.

Chara was seconds away from snapping and yelling at Kris for being so difficult. Before that could happen, though, Frisk suggests a different activity.

The three sit in a circle, Frisk picking a spot nearby the dead (or so they assumed it was dead) tree where they could crinkle in the leaves if they so desired. They spun the ball in their hands for a bit before pushing it in Chara’s direction. Chara catches it easily, keeping the fact that the ball had gone severely off course to themself.

“ _Truth or dare?_ ” Frisk signs.

“You’re kidding me,” Chara intones.

Frisk smiles sweetly and shakes their head, hair swishing from side to side. Chara groans, shoulders slumping.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” they mutter, causing Frisk to beam even brighter. “Alright, fine. Dare.”

Frisk covers their mouth, scandalized. “ _Bold move, picking dare on the first turn,_ ” they sign.

“What can I say? I’m bold,” Chara deadpans, eyes hooded in boredom. Meanwhile, Frisk tilts their head in thought.

“ _I dare you to… call mom and tell her she’s got a nice butt,_ ” Frisk signs, dangling their phone in front of their face. Chara’s face reddens.

“What?! NO!” They shriek, embarrassed.

Frisk turns to one side, turning up their nose at Chara. “ _So… you refuse_?” they sign, their gestures unnecessarily dramatic. “ _Hmm, can’t even do the first dare. Here I thought you were bold._ ”

“Oh my god, you little brat,” Chara groans, tightening their hands around the ball. “Fine, I’ll do it! But if I get in trouble, you owe me.”

Chara snatches the phone out of Frisk’s hand, speed dialing Toriel while making a variety of angry noises. Toriel picks up after only a few rings with a gentle, “Hello, my child. Is everything alright out there?”

“H-Hey, mom,” Chara says, in the most impossible to believe, forced neutral tone imaginable.

“Oh, Chara! It is good to hear from you. I trust everything is well?”

“Yeah, uh…” They swallow thickly, cheeks burning. They shoot Frisk a look, not that they can even see it, covering up the receiver before angrily whispering, “This is STUPID and I hate you,” uncovering the receiver to rapidly stutter out a “HEYmomyouhaveanicebuttbye!” before hurriedly slamming their thumb down over the end call button. They toss the phone in Frisk’s general direction as if it were burning their hands, not even noticing when Frisk actually manages to catch it after a brief fumble, too busy shoving their face into their own hands.

“Ugghhhhh,” Chara over-dramatically groans, using one of their hands to roll the ball halfheartedly in Kris’s direction. They only look up after feeling Frisk’s tiny baby hand patting them comfortingly on the shoulder, which they brush off with a grumble. “Ugh, whatever, let’s move on already.”

The rubber ball rests perfectly between Kris’s legs. The teen’s hands, which are mostly hidden in the sleeves of their sweater, rest lazily atop it. They bite their lip, glancing between the two children. When no one says anything, they slowly, with horribly shaky hands, sign, “ _Dare_?”

Chara cracks their knuckles, causing the teen to flinch. “Wow, can’t believe you’d be so stupid as to pick dare against me. Alright, weirdo, how’s this? I dare you to eat some of those leaves.”

Frisk starts to intervene, raising their hands to sign, but it’s too late. Kris has already gotten up, marched over to the leaves, and has shoved multiple inside their mouth, grimacing as the dusty, bland leaves crunch between their teeth. Meanwhile, Chara has started doing what could only be described as hooting and hollering, positively ecstatic that Kris had gone right for it, no hesitation, and even managed to swallow them!

“There’s no end to what I can make Kris eat!” Chara yells, cackling like a madman as Kris returns to their previous spot, not even bothering to wipe the remainder of the leaves from their lips.

“ _Can we please not put anything else in our mouths?_ ” Frisk signs pleadingly.

“ _No promises_ ,” Kris signs, much to Chara’s delight. As their laughter dies down properly, Kris rolls the ball over to Frisk. They hold out their hands, anticipating it.

“ _Truth_ ,” Frisk signs.

“WHAT? Oh, come on, Frisky, that’s such a cop-out,” Chara gripes.

Frisk responds by sticking out their tongue in Chara’s general direction, to which Chara gasps, over-dramatically appalled. Ignoring them, Frisk turns back in Kris’s direction, if only to be polite, before holding out both their hands to Kris, who hesitates a full ten seconds before taking them, awkwardly wrapping their fingers around Frisk’s much tinier ones.

Kris turns their head downwards in thought. Eventually, they sign, “ _How long have you been in the Underground?_ ”

With a well-practiced grace, Frisk easily responds with, “ _Four months_.”

Not willing to let the topic continue any more than that, they pull their hands away, passing the ball back to Kris. The teen doesn’t bother anticipating the ball’s approach, instead just letting it bounce off their leg with a tiny jingle before rolling to a gentle stop half an inch away. Once it’s stopped rolling, they sign, “ _Truth_ ,” which Chara relays to Frisk.

This time, Frisk seems prepared with a response, not wasting any time with grabbing Kris’s hand and firing off a response. “ _Do you like dogs?_ ”

Kris stares back at them, mouth hanging open in surprise. Chara can’t help but wonder why; it seemed like a pretty normal question to ask, if a little needlessly vanilla for a game of truth or dare. Nevertheless, Kris eventually signs, “ _Yes_.”

This brings a small smile to Frisk’s face. Afterwards, the ball is passed to Chara, and without missing a beat, they declare, “Dare.”

Kris’s head falls to one side; less of a tilt, and more of a weird droop, their hair falling over both eyes, keeping them concealed. Frisk keeps one hand wrapped around Kris’s, awaiting their response. After a bit of thought, Kris signs, “ _I dare you to lick the ball.”_

Chara’s eyes narrow, one brow raised. They were being challenged, they knew that. There was a war going on and Chara refused to lay down and die like a coward, raising the ball up to their mouth and giving it a long, hard lick with the flat of their tongue. The sheer intimidation on Kris’s face at their willingness to go above and beyond was more than worth it for having to use their newly-reacquired taste buds on a gross, dirty rubber ball.

It tasted like dirt and victory.

“ _Please tell me you’ll wash your mouth out after that_ ,” Frisk signs with a small frown, knowing Chara well enough to know they’d definitely gone through with it and hadn’t just jingled the ball around. Chara grumbles out a “no promises” before tossing the ball out at Kris from the center of their chest. This time, Kris throws up their arms to avoid getting beaned in the face, fingers keeping their sleeves held in place over the palms of their hands. The ball flies low, smacking into their waist before flopping down onto their lap. Kris doesn’t react much, seeming mostly just confused it hadn’t hit their arms instead.

“Truth or dare, weirdo.”

Their head flops to one side, revealing their one, uncovered eye, which bores into Chara with an uncomfortably intense yet soulless gaze. Chara raises an eyebrow at them, unfazed, merely awaiting their response.

“ _Dare_ ,” Kris signs.

If that’s how it’s going to be…

“Fine. I dare you to lick the floor, and I mean a FULL lick, no baby shit.”

“ _Wait--”_ Frisk starts, breaking off as Kris pulls their hand away. They’re powerless to do anything as Kris immediately gets into position, leaning on their hands, giving the stone floor a hard lick. When they raise their head, the look in their eye is strong and challenging, holding Chara’s annoyed gaze as they sit back down.

The ball jingles on its way back to Chara.

“Dare,” Chara spits out. They just barely catch Frisk’s face from out of the corner of their eyes, their lips pressed into a fine line, brows furrowed with concern.

“ _Eat a strand of your own hair_ ,” Kris signs.

Frisk signs out a quick “ _What did they say?_ ” at the same time that Chara plucks a single strand of dark reddish-brown hair from their head, just barely flinching at the brief sting of pain, and sticks it in their mouth. They roughly shove the ball back in Kris’s direction, relishing in Kris’s stunned, and possibly alarmed, expression. It was hard to tell, too subtle. But it was a reaction, and they’d be damned if they weren’t gonna do their best to get more of it.

“Your turn, _Krissy_ ,” Chara hisses with fake cheer, tacking on a cutesy smile for added effect.

Kris bites their lip, but still signs, “ _Dare,_ ” clearly not wanting to be outdone.

Chara grins, demented. “I dare you to drink the toilet water.”

Kris immediately stands up, wobbling slightly as they regain their footing. However, before they can take even a single step, Frisk shoots out and takes the ball back, holding it protectively to their chest like it was their baby. “ _Game’s over,_ ” they sign, as best as they can with the ball held in their arms.

“Ugh, lame,” Chara groans, and Kris hesitates for a few moments more, looking back and forth between the door and the makeshift circle before sitting back down. “Alright, what now?”

Frisk sets the rubber ball down onto their lap, giving it a few gentle pats. It jingles lightly beneath their hands. “ _No more licking or eating things, for starters_ ,” they sign.

“Yeah yeah, whatever, no fun allowed, got it,” Chara grumbles, yet with a playful roll of their eyes. “So, what?”

“ _I had an idea earlier_ ,” Frisk signs.

“Yeah?”

“ _I wanna teach Kris Monster Sign Language_ ,” Frisk responds. A look of dawning realization washes across Chara’s face.

“Ah, shit, yeah. I forgot about that.” They hesitate, choosing their next words carefully, because, after all, it was rude to talk about someone who was listening. Yet, at the same time, it felt somehow strange to directly address Kris with a purely cordial statement.

Frisk knew ASL, albeit not completely. Toriel had helped fill in the blanks with monster signs, before teaching them the equivalent for everything Frisk already knew. It wasn’t _wildly different_ , mostly just consisting of adjustments to preexisting signs, so Chara had no doubt Kris had at least followed most of what Frisk had been saying, but they had no way of knowing for sure.

They also hadn’t been paying attention, having thought they shouldn’t need to, and weren’t exactly sure what Frisk had been defaulting to or if they ever swapped between the two styles; it all kinda blended together in Chara’s head, like synonyms rather than alternate languages.

“So, Kris… you probably don’t know this, but…”

Chara explains the basics of the language to Kris, who stares right at them with their eyes covered, hopefully absorbing everything that was being said. It was hard to tell, the look of neutrality on their face making them look hardly even alive to begin with.

After Chara finishes their explanation, Frisk rolls them the ball so they can scoot closer to Kris. The teen’s head slowly turns in their direction, watching as Frisk gives them a tiny smile. Then they perform a gesture that Kris doesn’t recognize, something very unlike any sign in ASL. Afterwards, Frisk relaxes their fingers, forming a loose “C” shape with their fingers and thumb which they use to form a circle above their left breast, near the shoulder. _Character_.

Face reddening, Chara sputters. “Really, Frisk? You’re starting THERE?”

Frisk turns to their partner with a smile, drawing a heart shape around their chest before pointing at Chara, causing their face to turn beet red all the way to their ears. “Oh my god????” Chara stammers, embarrassed. “I hate you??? So much?????”

To their surprise, Kris ends up signing, “ _That’s cute,_ ” with a completely straight face.

“IT’S NOT!” Chara exclaims, adamant that nothing about it was cute and it was, in fact, humiliating. Frisk giggles soundlessly, covering their mouth with one hand, and Chara shoots them a glare.

Frisk continues demonstrating other gestures, translating them into their ASL equivalent to show the similarities and differences between the two. Chara helps out where necessary, translating signs Frisk has no alternatives for. It’s hard to tell if Kris properly understands any of it; they only mimic signs when prompted to do so, and while they direct their gaze--presumably--to whoever’s currently “speaking”, they could just as easily be zoning out entirely.

It’s kinda irritating, if Chara were to be honest. Did they understand? Did they care at all? They better, after all the effort Frisk was putting in to communicate.

  
  


An indeterminate amount of time passes before Frisk’s phone goes off, and they raise it up to their ear. Chara automatically knows what it means, not needing to make the attempt to eavesdrop. Toriel was calling them in for lunch. Dusting off their shorts and tights, Chara gets to their feet, halfway turned toward the house, Kris staring up at them questioningly. They don’t bother to answer that silent inquiry; Frisk does it for them, signing what Toriel had said after the call ends. Kris looks between the two children with a subtle look of surprise, before donning an expressionless, yet tense face once more, following the two back into the house.

“Welcome back, my children,” Toriel greets them immediately upon entry into the living room. Frisk wanders in close, tiny fists grabbing onto the front of Toriel’s dress, and Toriel gives them a gentle pat on the head. “Did you three have fun?”

Frisk nods. Meanwhile, Chara crosses their arms, staring off to the right with a disgruntled expression; was it fun? Maybe making Kris eat leaves and lick the floor was fun, but…

“Kris, what is that around your mouth?” Toriel questions, squinting her eyes suspiciously at the bits of red leaves stuck to Kris’s face. They remain stock still, like a mannequin at a clothing store, barely so much as breathing. Ten full seconds pass, and then Kris just shrugs, causing Toriel to sigh. “Please go wash your face before you eat.”


	4. on the right shoulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah uh sorry this took like seven thousand years to come out, I have a lot of excuses but I'm sure no one wants to hear them uh anyway just know that if this happens again, I AM working on the next chapter, I just have, a lot of things. There's just a lot... of things. Anyway, enjoy?
> 
> also if the formatting is weird I apologize I wrote half of this on my phone and half of it on a different computer in a different software that doesn't even have italics so I don't know

There's a town at the edge of the Ruins, bizarrely named "Home". It's something of a ghost town, many of the homes unoccupied and stores left closed. Toriel, who guides Kris around by the hand, explains to them that many of the monsters who used to live here fled many years ago, spreading out throughout the rest of the Underground.

This information has Kris tilting their head in question. What did she mean, the rest of the Underground? Where was that? But Toriel doesn't catch on, and changes the subject.

The duo enters a building; Kris hadn't seen the sign before walking in, and the interior revealed very little about the shop's purpose. There were boxes and displays of just about everything, with no sense of cohesion. Perhaps it was a secondhand store? While Toriel approaches the counter directly, Kris stares down a nearby figurine for some type of anime. How did this end up here...?

Toriel speaks to a monster behind the counter, who Kris only looks at long enough to identify them as some type of frog. Their attention is quickly drawn away to the various sights around the shop; they could see some old clothes, some children's toys, books, a bicycle with the back wheel missing, some assorted cups, an old Halloween costume...

It all looked like junk, to be honest.

Their attention is drawn back to Toriel, who is asking them to pick out some new shoes for themself. She indicates a nearby box full of shoes, with a couple matching pairs set out on shelves. Kris studies them from afar, not budging an inch until Toriel walks them over to it herself.

Per Toriel's instruction, Kris searches through the selection of shoes, too hesitant to touch any of them directly. There are children's shoes, baby shoes, and some really oddly shaped shoes that seemed more fit for a pair of paws than human feet. Similar, monster shaped shoes were scattered about as well, but Kris hardly recognized them as being shoes to begin with.

Among the less child sized human shoes, there were mostly old dress shoes, alongside some sneakers, boots, and plastic sandals. Kris looks down at their feet, at the worn out tennis shoes covered in holes big enough to fit their toes through, at the missing shoelaces and stains that not even Toriel could wash out. In truth, they hated these shoes; they were far too tight, among other obvious flaws. A pair of hand-me-downs from another family with no children with similarly shaped feet. They were already starting to fall apart when Kris first got them.

With Toriel excusing herself to peruse the shop's other wares, Kris feels comfortable enough in their privacy to start comparing their bare feet to each pair of sneakers available. It's a bit tricky given the small selection, but Kris isn't too picky as far as style goes. They settle on some black and white hi-top sneakers, which fit them the most comfortably.

Turning with the intention to present their choice of footwear to Toriel, their eyes catch on something nearby. A pile of assorted items rests on a nearby shelf, mostly full of jewelry and other accessories. However, sticking out of the top of one of the piles is a pure red headband, cheap plastic horns attached to either end. Their instinctual, childish urge to pick up and wear any mask, wig, or other Halloween accessory they see is overwhelming, guiding their hand toward the item.

They situate the headband onto their head, adjusting until it sits just right. Afterwards, they turn in various directions in search of a mirror, eventually finding a cheap purple hand mirror, which they use to scrutinize their new look. They find it doesn't look so bad, actually; it's a decent fit, doesn't look too horribly tacky, and best of all, it doesn't squeeze their head like a lot of headbands do.

Kris tilts their head, hair falling to their left. They see their own eyes reflecting back at them, their cold stare and dark shadows. For a moment too long they gaze into the endless abyss of their hollow eyes, finding nothing.

They turn away.

Toriel does what Kris imagines is the most mom thing imaginable, in piling up one of her large, fluffy arms with items she thinks her children will like, as well as some yarn in shades of green, yellow, purple, and blue.

After Kris presents their choice of shoes--to which Toriel wholeheartedly gives her support, making Kris kinda want to hide their face in their sweater--she, in turn, presents them with a pair of black jeans and a matching hooded sweatshirt, seeking their opinion. She skips pointing out that they would be much better than the rags Kris was already wearing, instead stating that she thought they would match Kris's tastes, given their current ensemble.

Toriel watches attentively as Kris delicately touches the fabric on both sides of of the jeans, followed by the sweater. Neither particularly disagreed with them, so they nod in approval.

Toriel smiles in response, followed up by a contemplative hum. "Would you like to find a pair of gloves as well, Kris?" she asks. Kris tilts their head, not fully grasping the question. "Perhaps I am misinterpreting, but... if you do not wish to touch things directly, perhaps it will help you."

Kris's lips part in surprise. They glance down at their hands, retreated inside the sleeves of their borrowed sweater like a snail inside its shell. The knitting was baby soft, like the fluffy pastel yarns they'd seen at supermarkets, easily the most superior of all yarns.

Would they want gloves? They thought about the cheap, black gloves you could get anywhere, how scratchy and uncomfortably warm the fabric was, making their hands twitch in discomfort. They thought about the gloves they once found on the living room coffee table in the middle of winter, how nice the suede had felt but also how unwieldy the fabric caused their fingers to be. They thought about the mittens other kids wore to school when they were younger, how often they got sneezed on by sickly children and how dirty they could become.

Somehow, gloves seemed like an even bigger hell. Kris politely shakes their head no.

"You're free to look through the shop for anything you'd like," Toriel suggests. "Perhaps a book or something else to entertain yourself with? I know Chara and Frisk's toys might not appeal to you..."

Teddy bears were, in fact, not terribly interesting.

Kris wanders the store some more, for the first time noticing the appearance of a few other monsters coming and going. A few of them look at Kris strangely, but all of them eventually shrug it off, smiling and waving to the human where it was most polite to do so. Kris just stares back, too unsure of themself to respond. Shockingly, absolutely no one seems to care.

Ignoring the other monster's presences, Kris digs through the nearby shelf full of books. Textbooks, nonfiction novels on increasingly bizarre, random topics, children's books, and the occasional racy adult novel stares back at them. They glance around, noting the far off position of Toriel. Heart racing, they tug one of the less than savory books off the shelf, opening it to a random page.

Twenty seconds later and they find themself deeply regretting this decision, face pale as they hastily return the paperback. They turn their back on the shelf full of novels, vowing never to think of this again.

There isn't much of interest to be found; the toys don't interest them, the books are a forbidden zone of sin, and everything else... doesn't really qualify for entertainment. There are no DvDs, no video games, no music. It was as if they had fallen sixty years into the past.

Minus the anime figurine of a magical girl, anyway. Kris wasn't so sure where such a thing could have possibly come from.

Kris returns to Toriel empty handed, avoiding her gaze lest she seem disappointed. They grab onto her paw purely by instinct, trailing after her on the way to pay for their things.

"Are you getting those too, my child?"

Kris stares up at the goat monster, wondering what she could be referring to. Toriel gestures towards Kris's head, and they suddenly remember the presence of the devil headband. They raise a hand to fidget with it, but decide better of it, not wanting to mess with perfection. Their lips press together, uncertain.

"If you like it, you may have it," Toriel reassures them. With a small giggle, she adds, "A little headband won't break the bank, as they say." She offers a gentle squeeze of her hand around theirs, and they relax, nodding up at her.

While Toriel pays for their things, Kris stares, perplexed by the sight of gold coins being exchanged.

On the way back to the Ruins, Toriel picks up some ingredients at what would appear to be the only food market. Kris carries all the bags without being asked, surprised when Toriel thanks them for their assistance. She gently smooths down their hair rather than ruffle it, careful not to mess with their headband.

Back at home, the pair steps inside to hear noise coming from the children's bedroom. With a titter Toriel suggests Kris run along to play with the others, exchanging the thrift store bags for the groceries Kris was holding.

Kris steps out of their old shoes, obediently heading for the source of the noise. They twist the door knob fully before pushing it open a crack, perfectly silent. Peering inside, they catch sight of the two younger children, Chara kneeling on the floor with a pink toy camera while Frisk poses dramatically several feet in front of them. They're completely stone faced with their leg up in the air, hands on their hips, which are cocked to one side. A series of clicks sound from the camera, and after enough imaginary photos are taken, Frisk changes position, standing more like a ballerina with one leg behind their back.

"Oh!! The ratings are off the charts, darling!" Chara exclaims, their usually harsh, androgynous voice weirdly flamboyant. "We've never had this many viewers at one time!!"

" _How many is that?_ " Frisk signs, otherwise not breaking their pose.

"Two! Two whole viewers!!! And one of them ISN'T my mom!"

Frisk erupts into near-silent, wheezy giggles, nearly causing them to lose their balance. A few more clicks and Frisk changes position, performing a dramatic heel turn and pointing boisterously at the camera. Chara squeals in their weird character voice at the sight.

"If you keep this up, darling, we might even get THREE viewers before the end of the night!"

While Kris would love to leave them be, they had been told to head in here, and Toriel might not enjoy seeing them still standing out in the hallway with all the thrift store bags. With a soft sigh they push the door open the rest of the way.

The two children immediately turn in Kris's direction, Chara lowering the plastic camera. Red eyes flicker up toward Kris's headband, one eyebrow raising. Before anyone can say anything, Kris holds up the bags, signing "went shopping" as best they could one handed.

"Yeah, and?" Chara prods. Their expression seems... neutral. Not mad, anyway.

" _Stuff for you_ ," Kris signs. " _Clothes, I think._ "

Truth be told, they hadn't really paid much attention at the register.

They step further into the room, setting the bags down in the center of the room. The two children regard them with curiosity--probably, anyway, it's a bit hard to tell. Frisk usually had the same expression on, and Chara always just seemed kind of... disgruntled? Something like that.

Kris can't imagine where to fit themself into this situation, so they don't. As soon as the other two begin investigating, Kris turns 180 degrees on their heel and exits the room.

Quick to get away from that situation, Kris takes longer strides toward the living room. The sound of plastic crinkling can be heard from the kitchen nearby, so they head for that without really thinking about it. Inside, they find Toriel hard at work, sorting things while preparing a meal. She seems perfectly content, smiling and humming an unknown tune. It feels like a fever dream. Like watching some sort of early morning cartoon originally aired in the 90s, but in person. A fantasy made real.

Kris watches from the doorway, not wanting to disturb her. Like if they did, the dream might collapse in on itself. Instead they try to guess what she's doing, the type of cooking techniques she employs, what the different shakers of crystals she's using are for.

When she lights the burner with magic rather than flick the dial for the gas, Kris is mesmerized. It's not like it's particularly new to them--to see magic, anyway. There was a lot of that going around. But Toriel's was really... something else.

A little nervous of being noticed lurking, Kris slinks away, curling up by the fire. She must have lit that, too, Kris thinks. They watch the flames dancing, wondering if it was real fire, and if not, could they see the difference?

Perhaps not.

Upon unceremoniously dumping the contents of the shopping bags onto the floor, Chara smooths out the various items to better tell them apart. There was mostly clothes, all in colors the two children typically wore, with some colorful beaded bracelets and short overalls featuring a heart pocket, all clearly meant for Frisk. These items are quickly pushed over towards the child in question, who cautiously reaches out to investigate.

  
"It's a pair of overalls and some beads," Chara narrates. They continue to describe each item in an appropriate amount of detail, watching as Frisk quickly becomes more comfortable with touching everything.

  
The beads are shaped like hearts and stars, and they jingle with a pleasant plastic clacking sound. There's a few pairs in total, not all of them matching, but Frisk loves them anyway.

  
They hold them all out to Chara, who frowns, an eyebrow raised in confusion. Despite this, they accept the jewelry anyway. That's when Frisk pushes up their loose blue sleeves, holding their wrists out toward Chara with an expectant smile on their face. Chara sighs, shoulders sagging.

"Sap," they grumble. Despite their tone, they find themself grinning, pleased. Carefully, they place the elastic bracelets on their partner's wrists, keeping the design scheme symmetrical. For style points. Frisk looks particularly chuffed after the jewelry has all been placed, holding out their arms with their fingers up as if they could actually see any of it. Chara takes this as some type of cue, commenting, "Lookin' good, Frisky."

Frisk beams.

" _What did you get?_ " They sign, their beads gently clacking against each other, slightly muffled as their sleeves fall back into place. Chara audibly hums, indicating that they hadn't quite thoroughly investigated yet.

The pile featured a lot of stuff that didn't exactly jump out at them; they were clothes. You wore them, and they protected you, in a few different ways. Sure, they were in colors and patterns and whatnot that Chara preferred, but it wasn't anything to write home about. However, while digging through, they did happen across three items that gave them pause; a black hoodie, matching jeans, and sneakers. Sure, Chara had been known to wear black--they were wearing black tights right now--but jeans? A hoodie? What were they, a goth teenag--

Oh. Duh. They were for Kris. They were even sized for a teenager, with longer legs and wider shoulders and all that.

They relay the information to Frisk, who listens patiently while Chara speaks. They respond by signing that they should leave Kris's things on their bed, sans the shoes which were probably better on the floor next to it. Chara agrees, if only to placate Frisk, then carelessly disposes of all of it on Kris's bed. They weren't worth tidying anything up for, and Frisk wouldn't know anyway.

" _You could at least fold them_ ," Frisk signs.

...How??

There was something rumbling about in the dark. The rattling and thumping made it hard to stay asleep, rousing Chara with an annoyed groan. Propping themself up on their elbows, they perform their best impersonation of a cat by attempting to see in the dark. To their right Frisk is sound asleep, curled up with one of their arms dangling across Chara's back. To their left, they squint, trying to make out what the morphing shape in the corner is, exactly. They eventually conclude that it's Kris's bed, and therefore the teen is... moving very erratically, perhaps?

Or their bedding is haunted.

Nah, that's too cool to be it.

Suddenly, something drops out of the bed, crashing to the ground in a messy heap, startling Chara enough for them to flinch. They can just barely see enough differences in color to determine that the blob is Kris, faceplanted on the floor with one of their legs still partially on the bed. Chara snickers, careful not to alert Frisk.

"You seem to have a falling down problem," Chara mockingly whispers down at the collapsed teen. They don't bother thinking on what just happened any more than that.

Until Kris stands up, head hung like their neck had snapped, hair curtained around their face. Chara can just barely see their fingers twitch oddly, curling one at a time with creaky movements. Frowning, Chara sits up further as Kris begins to stumble, pigeontoed, toward the door.

Chara quickly scrambles out of bed, tugging on their sweater and gently setting the nearest plushie within Frisk's grasp. The fallen child's arms curl around it like a sleepy kitten, but Chara doesn't have much time to appreciate how cute that is.

They turn just in time to see Kris standing extremely close to the door, as if they'd walked directly into it without making a sound. Chara sneaks up closer to them. Kris's right arm clumsily searches for the handle, eventually landing true and pushing open the door. It makes a sound, Chara notices. They don't close it behind them, either.

Chara tails the teen from a non-subtle distance. They head first for the kitchen, every step slow and heavy like the room was full of snow. They stop in front of the counter and begins digging through the drawers.

"What are you doing...?" Chara asks, loud enough to be heard from across the kitchen, and nothing more. They don't expect an answer, so it's doubly surprising when they get one.

"Knife," Kris mumbles. Mumbles. They mumbled. With their voice. Out loud.

Slackjawed, Chara sputters, failing to come up with anything intelligent to say. "Uh, what?" Maybe they were hearing things? It wasn't that loud, they could've imagined it. And the more they imagine it, the more the memory of it morphs into something else; maybe it was the creak of a drawer. Yeah.

"Where are the knives?"

Chara's blood runs cold. That definitely wasn't imaginary; it was crystal clear, a deep, yet otherwise androgynous voice they'd never heard before. It was flat, almost mechanical, with the quiet cadence of someone who hadn't spoken in months, if not years.

But the sound of Kris's voice hardly mattered. Their question, though...

_Dust on their hands. A dry, plastic handle under stained, brown fingers. Empty drawers. A pounding headache, bones aching, nerves alight. Not real. Like a dream. Not real._

"Why do you want to know?"

Chara spreads their ankles, fists clenched, defensive. They glare at Kris's back, at the off-color green and yellow knitting, a few threads loose here and there. Kris's head tilts back and to the side strangely, their body leaning slightly as if they were drunk. Their hair is a total mess, covering the entirety of their face, almost as if they didn't have one.

They can't be trusted. Humans can't be trusted.

They take, they take, they take--

"For the pie," Kris states.

Silence ensues, so silent you could hear a pin drop in the other room.

"Uh... Wait, what?" Chara blurts out, shoulders sagging, fingers uncurling. "Hold on--What pie? The fuck? Is this a joke?"

"Whaddya mean?" Kris mumbles. Their tone doesn't change at all whatsoever, and Chara finds they aren't so sure what to think about it. A lie? Diversion? Clever trick?

"What PIE?"

"The one mom made...?" They lean back and to one side, hanging onto the drawer to keep their balance as they turn in the direction of the dining table. "That one?"

Chara squares their shoulders, fingers tensing into fists once more. There was a less than zero chance they were going to fall for that. "There's no pie. Everyone's asleep. Stop lying." They pause, reflecting on what Kris had just said--the one MOM made. Chara's lip curls into a sneer. "And she's not your mom, you freak."

Kris tenses, clearly unnerved by Chara's statement, but rather than say anything about it they just look away, one hand coming to rest on their opposite arm, fingers fiddling with something that isn't there. It's silent for several long moments, when eventually it becomes clear that Kris doesn't intend to do or say anything at all.

"Go back to bed, Kris." Chara glares challengingly at the teen, as if they weren't a literal child nearly half Kris's size.

Kris tilts their head in the direction of the counters, face hidden. "It's four in the afternoon, bro."

Chara's anger flares. They jab a finger in Kris's direction, "I'm NOT your 'bro'! And what the hell are you talking about, anyway?"

Without answering, Kris sways, walking out of the kitchen and right past Chara, who huffs, barely resisting the urge to reach out and grab the teen out of sheer frustration. As much as they wanted to start throwing hands, it wouldn't do a whole lot of good when they were unarmed, and Kris was behaving... strangely, to say the least.

"What are you doing NOW?" Chara hisses, struggling to be quiet. The last thing they wanted was for Toriel to show up and catch the two of them wandering around at night. Especially not when Chara couldn't be certain of her safety if she did.

"I'm'ma eat the whole thing m'self," Kris mumbles, leaning on the dining table and overlooking... nothing.

"You're going to get us in trouble, you weirdo," Chara snaps.

"But mom said we could have it?"

Chara grinds their teeth as Kris takes a seat at the dining table.

"You're being rude," Kris mumbles. "So you don't get any."

Oh yeah, because I really want imaginary pie, Chara thinks, glaring a hole into the back of Kris's head. This was ludicrous. Had they lost their mind? There was no point to this anymore. What did they think was going to happen, that Chara would go back to bed so they could brandish a weapon and wreak havoc behind their back?

Like hell was that going to happen.

"This is stupid. You look like an idiot."

Kris doesn't respond, or otherwise indicate that they heard anything, their head swaying drunkenly as they lean their elbows on the table. Annoyed and frustrated, Chara kicks the back of their chair, sending Kris falling forward to nearly faceplant into the table, yet for once they catch themself before that can happen.

"Rude," Kris says.

Chara audibly growls, repeatedly kicking the chair without a care to where their foot actually makes contact. With no shoes, it isn't very loud, but they find they hardly care anymore whether it's loud or not. Only rage lives in their brain now.

"Dumb. Stupid. Idiot. Moron," Chara grouses, puncuating each kick with an insult, to no avail. Kris isn't listening, or so it seems they aren't, although in the dark, it's a bit hard to tell. "Annoying! Weirdo! Freak!" They give a particularly hard kick, in hopes that Kris might crack their head on the table or hit their chest and get the wind knocked out of them. Anything at all. But Kris manages to catch themself just fine, and Chara gives up with a frustrated groan.

Exhausted, they ignore the sharp twinge of pain along the curve of their foot, shoving down all thoughts of how maybe that was a bit rude, or a bit too overreactive. Because, why should they care? What reason did they have to care?

That's when Kris suddenly hits the table, arms crumpled up around their head, and for a moment Chara considers the possibility that Kris had actually, for real, cracked their skull and died. Would they know? They'd never been in this exact situation before.

Circling around to the side, they attempt to peek at Kris's face. The entire thing is covered in hair, like some cheap horror movie monster, or a sasquatch or something. Chara wasn't sure which was more amusing; not that they were laughing. This was too annoying. Maybe later.

"I said go BACK to bed, not pass out wherever you want, dumbass," Chara groans, reaching out to poke where they assumed Kris's cheek was. They aren't super sure if they're correct, but their finger makes contact with something squishy underneath all that hair, anyway. And, god, do they ever wash their hair? It feels like straw.

In response, Kris makes a sleepy noise, turning their head away and curling their arms in closer to their head.

"Oh my god, you fuck, you actually fell asleep," Chara says through their teeth, speaking more to themself since clearly no one was listening anymore. With a suppressed rage-filled groan they pull at their own hair, too tired to want to deal with this anymore. What were they supposed to do now? Grinding their teeth, they begin to weigh their options.

Leaving Kris behind meant that Toriel would be displeased, to find them there in the morning. It also ran the risk that Kris would just get up as soon as Chara left, and they didn't like the thought of what might happen after that.

But not leaving Kris behind meant having to drag them back to bed themself, and there were some... obvious size based problems with that. Considering how little they had been affected by the kicking, they likely wouldn't wake up from more kicking.

"I hate you so much," Chara grouses under their breath as they set about repositioning Kris, "I'd kill you, but I wouldn't get away with it, and I hate that and I hate you so much."

Kris is a bit lighter than they seem, but that hardly changes much. They could weigh as much as a pillow and it would still, at the very least, be awkward as hell trying to relocate them as someone roughly half their size. Chara mockingly thinks that the right word for them would be gangly--way too long, way too thin, and all limbs. Like a disgusting spider, with half it's legs torn off.

It feels like an eternity before they've even reached the bedroom, with Chara swapping methods of transport multiple times. Once they're in the actual bedroom, they don't bother hefting the teen up into bed. They clearly already had a habit of falling out of bed, so why not?

After shutting the door as quietly as they knew how, they climb back into bed, not bothering to return to their previous position within Frisk's grasp. The plush was good enough.

They squeeze their eyes shut, as if it were an act of defiance.

There's a weird atmosphere pervading the air the following morning. Chara speaks very little, and it doesn't take an empathetic genius to realize they're miffed about something. The harsh sound of their stomping feet, the huffs, their refusal to acknowledge the people around them, and the overly aggressive handling of inanimate objects. Frisk didn't need eyes to figure it out.

Nothing else appears to be out of the ordinary, so it leaves Frisk wondering. The previous day had ended quite peacefully; a relatively normal dinner, with Kris barely factoring in what with their overall lack of presence and dead silence. Even their silverware managed not to make any noise, and their chewing was so quiet Frisk almost thought they inhaled everything instead.

After dinner was normal as well; Frisk played some games with Chara, while Kris kept to themself. Chara seemed on edge with Kris around, but that wasn't new or surprising. And, anyway, there was nothing to worry about, or so Frisk kept telling them.

They even seemed like they were getting along, sort of. Did telling each other to eat leaves count as friendship? Well, maybe. A lot of Frisk's friends tried to kill them, so.

But weird, perhaps mean pranks and dares weren't quite the same as... this.

Kris trips in the hallway on their way to the dining table. It's a nasty spill, or at least, it seemed pretty full-body, anyway. The teen pulls themself to their feet without comment, not even bothering to dust themself off.

"You seem to have a stumbling problem, freak," Chara says in their sickly sweet voice, which Frisk is all too familiar with; anything spoken like that, actually translates to "I hope you die."

Something was wrong.

" _You tripped them_ ," Frisk signs while Chara is busy washing their hands and face in the bathroom.

"Uh, no," Chara lies. Frisk would give them an A for effort on that one; it was pretty convincing. But they'd long since developed a talent for knowing exactly where everyone's feet were, so long as they made a noise. And Chara's foot certainly hadn't been subtle.

" _You're angry_ ," Frisk signs. " _Do you want to talk about it?_ "

"No," Chara growls, twisting the sink faucet off with unneccessary force, as if they wanted to tear it off. "I'm not mad."

" _Please don't lie to me._ "

Chara groans, too many emotions in that one noise for Frisk to place any of them properly. "God. Okay. Fine. I'm angry. Happy?"

Rather than responding, Frisk reaches over and pats Chara on the back of their shoulder, exactly three times. They smile at the disgusted noise Chara makes.

" _I won't pry_ ," Frisk signs, " _Just don't take it out on anyone._ "

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

It felt effective at the time. But breakfast told a different story.

Chara was behaving. At first. They didn't speak, not that Frisk really expected them to, if they were going to be brooding all day. Toriel noticed; of course she did, she had mom powers. She didn't pry either, or make a spectacle of it. She just patted Chara's dark hair more than usual, steered conversation away from them, and left them alone. Exactly what Frisk intended to do.

Exactly what Kris didn't know how to do.

There was no way for Frisk to know for sure, but they were willing to bet Kris knew full well Chara tripped them. Their tone had been pretty clear, too, or, Frisk thought so anyway. They were pretty fluent in Chara, so perhaps not? But, anyway, they would imagine Kris knew something was wrong, and that they shouldn't engage.

No. Nope.

Kris's legs were stretched out under the table. Their right foot collided with Chara's chair hard enough to make a clear enough sound in Frisk's ears. Chara huffed, surprised but irritated. The foot didn't move away afterwards, or Kris was hovering it in the air, but that was very unlikely.

Chara was grinding their teeth. Frisk couldn't be sure if anything else was going on, but nothing was being said, everyone focusing on eating instead. Except Chara, who was more interested in wearing down their teeth, apparently.

There were a few conclusions Frisk could draw; there was a stare-off, perhaps. Both of them glaring at each other, like Kris was trying to piss Chara off on purpose, out of revenge, knowing they were on a hairpin trigger and silently daring them to do something about it in front of Toriel.

Or Kris was just naturally inclined to spread out, which Frisk had noticed to be the case whenever they were seated. Still, though, didn't they know well enough not to put your feet on someone else's chair? Maybe not.

Frisk reaches up onto the table, quickly finding Chara's hand, which is shaking ever so slightly, clenched around a piece of silverware. They wrap their much smaller hand around the fallen child's, silently pleased to feel Chara's hand stills as a result. Frisk gives a tiny smile in Chara's general direction, hoping they're looking. Knowing Chara, they'd likely just whipped their head around, shocked by the sudden display of affection.

"Ohhh, how precious," Toriel cooes, and Frisk can't help but beam up at her, satisfied by her reaction. "Oh, I wish I still had that old camera..."

"Whatever!" Chara chokes out, the embarrassment clear in their voice. They make no move to pull their hand away. "It's nothing! Shut up!"

But Toriel just titters in response, and Frisk grins even wider. Under the table to their left, they hear fabric shuffle against the wood floors, and can guess that Kris has pulled their legs away.

Bomb diffused!

It can be difficult locating Kris at times. At first, they hadn't strayed very far from any of the others in the house, either following the children around like a lost puppy or sticking to Toriel, grabbing her hand, listening to her stories, helping her cook. Now, though? It had become a bit of a game attempting to locate them.

Frisk kneels down onto the rug in their shared room, sticking their arm under both beds one after the other in search of a human body. Kris was always so quiet, even their breaths could be hard to pick up on. Plus, they were beginning to suspect Kris knew how good Frisk's hearing was, and had started holding their breath. For what reason, they had no idea, but if they were comfortable enough to do this sort of thing, then that made Frisk happy.

They step inside the bathroom, knocking on the wall by the light switch to get a feel for the room's interior. They weren't an expert at this sort of thing yet, but something about the bathtub seemed off, which had them feeling hopeful that they might find something.

They take a step forward, feeling around for the counter and toilet, not because they needed help getting around, rather, they were curious to know what they'd find. Nothing was out of place--they weren't expecting anything to be, anyway--but right as they step in front of the toilet, they hear the shower curtain shove aside suddenly, the metal rings scraping across the shower rod.

There's no reaction. Rather, they turn in the tub's direction, as if they hadn't heard anything at all, and sign, " _Hello, Kris._ "

There's a long stretch of silence, which Frisk patiently waits out. They know Kris can't speak, and Kris knows they can't see. If Kris had something to say, they'd find a way to indicate it. And, sure enough, they hear the telltale sound of movement inside of a bathtub--what an oddly specific noise, Frisk muses--before Kris steps out and onto the tile. Frisk expectantly holds out both hands, palms up, waiting for them to finish maneuvering.

Kris's hands are sweaty and much bigger than even Chara's, but Frisk doesn't mind it so much. " _What's up, buttercup_ ," they sign. It just makes Frisk cringe, though, gritting their teeth to avoid showing their displeasure. They decide not to comment on it, in much the same way that they've decided to ignore the fact that Kris was hiding in the bathtub, lying in wait for someone to walk in.

It was more fun that way.

Frisk doesn't respond, merely taking both of Kris's hands and tugging them out into the hallway, at which point they switch to holding only one of Kris's hands. Kris allows themself to be led with zero resistance, although their stilted walking patterns give the illusion of resistance anyway. They don't question anything or try to escape; they follow Frisk's lead in its entirety, even the part where they stop to put shoes on before stepping outside. The short brunette child stares at them blankly, until they put their sneakers on, not allowing Kris to go out in socks again.

With their hand in Frisk's tiny baby grasp, the two head out. Walking in a perfectly straight line, with stiff and sudden turns, Frisk leads them deeper--or, perhaps, less deep?--into The Ruins. They pass through a lot of rooms familiar to both of them, neither one bothering to take in their surroundings any more than necessary. Eventually, Frisk stops, letting go of Kris's hand before running off in a seemingly random direction.

Frisk kneels down, their hand cautiously reaching out to touch the Froggit on the ground before them. The small monster was maybe two-thirds their own height, but kneeling down not only put the monster at ease, it put them at perfect hugging height, so.

The Froggit warms up to them quickly--Frisk assumes they must've been wary of Kris, as normally the monsters in The Ruins seemed to know their two new inhabitants quite well. Well enough that they'd run out to greet them, or at least, greet Frisk. Once this Froggit in particular understands the lack of danger, it gives Frisk a rather sudden flick of the tongue on Frisk's cheek, bringing a goofy smile to Frisk's face.

They return to Kris with the Froggit perched comfortably in their arms. Once close enough, they hold their arms out in Kris's direction with a gentle smile. Kris takes a single step back, the Froggit ribbits, and Frisk thinks they must not have been clear enough.

" _Pet_ ," they sign, balancing the monster on top of their arms to free their hands.

Nothing happens. The Froggit ribbits again.

Frisk's lips press into a thin line. Okay. Different tactic then. They lower their arms, cradling the Froggit closer to their chest. Afterwards, they sit down on the ground, legs crossed, and the Froggit allows themself to be deposited into Frisk's lap like a cat. The monster moves very little, and Frisk thinks they must be pretty chill about a lot of things.

A few moments later, Kris joins them on the ground, not far from where they're currently sitting. Frisk smiles at them to show their approval, before dropping the expression entirely. They gently lift up the Froggit, who immediately hops out of their grasp, landing on the ground between the two humans, which is where they remain.

Frisk glances up at Kris, who they assume would see it. After that small gesture of acknowledgement, Frisk repositions themself onto their front, propping themself up on their elbows. They give a gentle poke to the side of the Froggit, who hops 120 degrees around to face them.

Frisk fingerguns at the Froggit before signing, " _If you were an angle, you'd be acute._ "

The Froggit blushes.

Frisk smiles before glancing up at Kris, as if to say, "Now you." To their surprise, they can hear Kris shifting to also lay down on the floor. The Froggit seems to notice this, as they immediately turn to look, a touch cautious of the human. Frisk doesn't get to know whatever Kris says to them, but the Froggit meows in response, and a small sound like a gasp comes from Kris's direction.

Kris reaches for Frisk's hands, which they gladly give. " _What does a Froggit feel like?_ " Kris asks. Frisk notes that they signed "frog ribbit" instead of finger spelling "Froggit".

Frisk takes a moment to consider their response. " _Kinda like a pickle. But dry and more smooth._ "

" _Like a lizard?_ "

" _I wouldn't know_ ," Frisk responds. The only one they'd ever met wasn't very touchy-feely.

Slowly, Kris removes one of their hands. Frisk waits with bated breath, curious to know what they were going to do. The hand still connected with theirs--the left one, Frisk notes--is trembling slightly, occassionally tensing up.

They take a guess, reaching out to lay their free hand on top of the Froggit's head, giving them a gentle pat. Not long after, Kris's hand joins theirs, the tips of their fingers grazing the monster's head before quickly drawing back. Frisk gives them a patient smile, continuing to gently rub the Froggit's head. The monster seems quite content with all the physical affection, so when Kris's hand returns, there's no objections. Very slowly and carefully, Kris's fingertips brush across the top of the Froggit's head, observing the monster's texture.

When they're done, Kris rubs their hand off on their pants before reaching for Frisk's other hand, which they freely offer up. " _Doesn't feel like a frog at all_ ," Kris signs.

Frisk nods. " _Wouldn't it be cute if they purred?_ "

There's a pause from Kris's side; Frisk assumes they must be imagining it. " _I think it would sound really watery. Like a boat._ "

" _That would be so cute!_ "

There's no response on Kris's side, and Frisk can't tell if they don't agree or what, but that's fine. Frisk is so busy imagining the little Froggit making motorboat sounds that they hardly care.

Said Froggit hops in place a bit, observing their surroundings. They turn in Frisk's direction, quickly flicking out their tongue at Frisk's cheek before hopping away, vanishing into another room. Frisk smiles and waves at the quickly retreating monster, before sitting back up with crossed legs. Kris follows suit not long afterwards.

Frisk grabs onto Kris's hands again. " _Let's go get some candy,_ " they suggest.

" _Whatever you want, kiddo,_ " Kris signs back.

Frisk silently giggles at the nickname before leading Kris into the next room.

Several pieces of sugary goodness later and the two are faced with a spilled bowl of candy, strewn all over the ground. With a single piece in Frisk's hand and more-than-one too many in Kris's, Frisk stares down at where they know the candy has landed, Chara's voice drifting through their mind.

_Look what you've done._

They reach out and pat Kris on the arm. Kris stuffs the candy into their pants pocket before taking Frisk by the hands and signing, " _Moment of silence, please._ "

Frisk would have snickered, if they could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frisk: what's your favorite anime  
> Kris: ...  
> Kris: fullmetal alchemist  
> Chara: GOD, FINALLY, SOME /TASTE/


	5. on the left shoulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I would be contractually obligated to finish + upload ch5 if this fic reached 200 kudos and you absolute madmen actually did it what the fuck there are 200 of you now I was joking when I said that
> 
> uh, thanks?????? dang

The two sat on the tile floor, observing the nearby monsters as they went about their day. At this point, they had grown used to seeing Frisk, and after seeing Frisk with Kris, the teen had begun receiving the same treatment. The normally meek monsters were much less wary now.

Kris has a full pile of candy in their lap, which they sort through quickly but carefully. Frisk doesn't have the heart to tell them every flavor is the same, no matter what they might look like. It's almost like the activity is calming for them.

Neither one actually pops any of the candy in their mouth; even after all this time, Frisk still can't bring themself to stop hoarding things. They haven't been in a FIGHT in months, but... what if? Anything could happen.

Something in particular, as a matteroffact. Something that hadn't happened yet, and they'd received zero explanation as to why.

Eventually Kris stuffs some of the candies into their inventory, but leaves a lot of them sitting in their lap still. The remaining treats are eventually put into their inventory as well, just from a different location. Frisk doesn't question it.

It's quiet for a long time, no signs being exchanged or attempts at getting up and leaving being made. It's nice to be able to relax, but Frisk had hoped for something a bit... different. Something more revealing, perhaps. Maybe they just had to push a little more?

Frisk turns their body more towards Kris, reaching out and following along their sweater's sleeve to find their hand. Kris gets the point, mirroring the angle Frisk turned at and offering their other hand.

" _How do you like The Ruins?_ " Frisk asks. An innocuous question. Easy to start with.

Strangely, Kris responds with, " _It's empty_." A little confused by their response, Frisk purses their lips.

" _No, it isn't_ ," Frisk replies. " _There's me, and you, and Chara, and Toriel_."

" _Toriel?_ " Kris signs with a questioning tilt of their head. " _I thought she was "mom"_."

" _She sort of is_ ," Frisk signs, thoughtful. " _But I thought you would know her better by her name_."

Kris doesn't respond, so Frisk tries to think up something else to say.

" _Do you like her?_ "

" _Yes_ ," Kris responds with zero hesitation. Their enthusiasm makes Frisk smile. Without any further prompting, Kris continues, " _She's warm and fluffy and kind and attentive_."

Frisk copies Kris's last sign with a little question mark.

Kris purses their lips, searching for the briefest way to explain. " _She notices things_ ," Kris tries. Frisk nods, but Kris can't tell if it means they understand or not.

" _She's really smart!_ " Frisk cheerfully boasts. It's cute, Kris thinks. Even if they still aren't so sure Frisk fully understands what they meant.

It's fine, though. They're six. They might still believe in Santa Claus, for all Kris knows.

" _Can I ask you something personal?_ " Frisk signs suddenly.

Incredibly curious, Kris can't help but sign in the affirmative.

" _What was your mom like? The human one_ ," Frisk clarifies.

Oh. Kris blinks. Tilting their head at an angle, they stare off somewhere to the left.

" _She's a teacher_ ," Kris signs. They think that must be good enough of a response, but Frisk doesn't reply, and after an awkward amount of time passes Kris realizes they're waiting for more information. Struggling to come up with anything at all to say, their hands tense. What did people usually want to hear in this situation?

" _Did you like her?_ " Frisk prompts.

Of course that's what they would want to know. Frisk wore heart-shaped beads and pet Froggits and held people's hands. Of course, they should have known, should have been able to figure that out.

" _Yes_ ," Kris responds. Knowing Frisk would want to know more, they continue, " _She's kind. She always tries her best. She liked to bake a lot of different stuff for us._ "

" _Us?_ "

There's a strange pause on Kris's side, their hands stiff like the branches of a tree, and the silence has weight, and Frisk doesn't know what's going on, but they don't like it.

" _Yes_ ," Kris vaguely replies, staring down at their hands. There's an audible sigh that could only be from Kris, unsteady like the tremble in their hands that never quite goes away, before the teen asks, " _What was your mom like? The human one._ "

Frisk's smile vanishes in an instant. They can feel the same weight from earlier, but now they think they understand it, and it sends a pang of sorrow through their heart. Without even noticing, they begin to chew on their bottom lip.

" _Toriel is my mom now_ ," is all they sign in response.

  
It hadn't been long since breakfast but Frisk and Kris were nowhere to be found.

While it was easy to pick up on some of Kris's... eccentricities, they were still a bit of an unknown. Chara could easily say they had a tendency to hide in weird places, or to sit by themself and do nothing for long periods of time. But they also hadn't settled in yet; it had only been a few days. There was a lot none of them knew about Kris, and Chara didn't like it. It was even worse to note that they had no idea where Frisk was at the same time as Kris.

Chara was in... a mood. Sure. It didn't happen much these days but it did happen, although usually it wasn't caused by anything in particular. Stray thoughts, a bad dream, maybe something innocuous that triggered thoughts or memories that lead them down a bad path--something like that. Usually it wasn't a lack of sleep and generalized exhaustion from dealing with the world's most obnoxious teenager.

Curled up in Toriel's chair while the aforementioned goat monster was busy elsewhere, Chara sighs. Was it hormones? That was the word for it, right? Weird stuff happens when you grow older. Like, uh... your voice changing? And... hair? Or something?

There's a dusty old hardcover book in their hands they have to remind themself to focus on. They'd strayed so far from being in tune with the story, they find it impossible to return to their previous mental image. It was too easy to get distracted--they weren't even sure what they'd rather focus on. The book? Frisk's safety?

The kitchen still had all it's knives. Chara checked. Thrice. But Frisk was a human child, and a fourteen year old wouldn't have to do much to kill one.

Would they? No. That didn't make sense. It would be so out of nowhere; why not come out the gate with dust (or, in this case, blood) on your hands? No, they wouldn't kill Frisk now.

But they might do worse.

Shit.

Where the hell are they?

"Is something troubling you, my child?"

Chara nearly jolts out of their seat, not expecting the sudden derailment from their train of thought. Toriel stands not far from them; a respectable distance, avoiding the inevitability of looming that comes from being so much larger. Not that that's ever phased them, but.

"Uh... fine," Chara eloquently replies.

Why trouble her with this? She... well, she might understand, but it wouldn't help. Only a knife through the chest could ever convince her of the true evil a human child could wield.

A human... teenager. A teenager. Yeah.

It's obvious Toriel doesn't buy it, but she doesn't press the issue. Perhaps she knows? Or it doesn't matter. Or...

"If you say so," Toriel knowingly says, with a small smile. "I thought I would let you know, I will be retiring to my room to get some knitting done. If you would like, you are free to join me."

Chara hesitates, glancing down at the book. There was no use in trying to focus on it, not like this. Absentmindedly scratching at their right arm, they reply with a nod.

"In that case, would you prefer we brought it out here? In that way, you can see when Frisk returns," Toriel suggests. At Chara's look of surprise, she titters softly, a warm smile gracing her lips. "I know you are quite fond of them. Perhaps you can work on something to show to them when they get back?"

Chara averts their eyes, shy, continuing to scratch at their arm. "Yeah, okay," they mumble.

"Splendid!" Toriel exclaims, at a nice, level volume that Chara deeply appreciates. "I'll fetch my yarns."

  
The shoddy looking pink and blue scarf gets points in softness but little else, Chara thinks. It's hardly long enough to even be considered a scarf, but it's a work in progress.

The two worked mostly in silence, with Toriel occasionally giving advice or Chara asking for it. Every now and then Chara's eyes would stray to their mother, watching her masterfully work through her current project, which was quickly turning into a turtleneck sweater of various soft colors. They couldn't be sure who it was for, but it was possible there wasn't really anyone it was meant for. Just a passion project, maybe.

As for them... well, even if Frisk didn't actually know what color their sweater was, Chara still felt the need to follow the palette. It was baby soft, anyway, and that's what Frisk would appreciate.

Or so Chara hopes.

"That's coming along quite nicely," Toriel comments, catching Chara's attention with her gentle, lilting voice.

They look down at their creation, in all it's messy glory. There were holes, loose threads, all sorts of imperfections. It was amateurish, but... it was the right shape, at least.

 _It's a scarf, of course it's the right fucking shape_.

"I guess," Chara mumbles. They don't look up, not interested in seeing the way Toriel's face might change. In the way her smile might die, with the way Chara sucked all the enthusiasm out of the room.

"I'm sure they'll love it," Toriel knowingly says.

Chara pretends their face doesn't get warmer. That the prospect of what Toriel had said didn't give them what was arguably a "warm, fuzzy feeling", as they say. It was more than they wanted to experience. A bit too late to ignore the existence of, but. Feelings were better as abstract concepts as opposed to reality.

"I hope so," Chara quietly responds. Not liking the way it sounds, they hastily tack on, "I mean, of course they will! I made it." They force a laugh, which Toriel joins in on, amused by their utterly transparent antics.

  
It was in the middle of a particularly frustrating stitch that just refused to turn out right that the front door opens. Toriel comments on it, not that she would really need to; despite the knitting, Chara was still hyper-fixated on the front door. They turn, knitting all but forgotten, watching through blood red eyes as Frisk steps in, alongside... Kris.

Chara's eyes narrow dangerously.

The two take off their shoes by the door. There's a small smile on Frisk's face; the two are turned towards each other, an overall friendly atmosphere about them.

Why.

Kris's eye catches on Chara's, noticing the child's unabashed staring. Their posture immediately stiffens, any semblance that they might've been relaxed vanishing. Without a word--or, in this case, a sign--the teen turns a perfect 180 degrees around and heads for the bedroom, closing themself in. Frisk merely waves goodbye at their receding back.

"Welcome back, Frisk," Toriel announces, just loud enough to get Frisk's attention and nothing more. The brunette turns in her direction, a small smile on their face.

As Frisk skips over and converses with Toriel, Chara pretends to still be knitting, ravelling and unravelling the same strand of yarn while more-or-less eavesdropping. It's nothing revolutionary or groundbreaking--it was exactly what you'd expect of a mom talking to her child who just got back from playing with a new friend.

Gross.

Perhaps Toriel misses the dark look on Chara's face, reddish-brown bangs casting a shadow over their eyes. Or perhaps she just doesn't want to comment on it. Chara can't tell for sure, but she dismisses herself under the guise of letting Chara and Frisk play together without an adult getting in the way or something. Whatever. The knitting needles were starting to look beautifully sharp, so maybe it was for the best that they were getting taken away.

Once she's away, Frisk curls up in her chair, so they can be seated across from Chara. The little heartbreaker scoots to one side of the chair, patting the other side invitingly. The mood isn't quite right, but Chara humors them, sidling up beside them.

"Hey, Frisky," Chara slowly says, their cheerful tone forced. "What, uh... What were you doing with Kris?"

_and why weren't you doing it with me_

Frisk smiles. " _I was teaching them how to ACT_ ," they sign, fingerspelling "ACT" to make sure Chara properly understood. " _We got some monster candy. Do you want one?_ "

"What?" Chara blurts out. "You went to--Nevermind. Was that all you did with Kris? They didn't do anything, did they? Something weird?"

" _They didn't do anything_ ," Frisk signs, adamant. " _I know you don't trust them, but I do have ways to get out of things. Immediately. You know?_ "

Chara grits their teeth, "I'd rather you didn't do that. I don't want to find out if they'd have... reactions. Two people with that kind of awareness is enough, thanks."

" _Well, you make three_ ," Frisk says with a small shrug. Changing the subject, hopefully for the better, they ask, " _Are you feeling better?_ "

"Peachy." The gritted-teeth response causes Frisk to purse their lips in dissatisfaction.

" _Maybe you should talk to them_ ," Frisk says. " _I don't know why you're mad at them, but talking to people about your problems always helps. Humans can't read minds._ "

Chara makes a noise like a dying animal. "God, what are you, my therapist? You're, like, six."

" _I'm exactly six_ ," Frisk retorts with a smile.

"Ugh. Feelings. Gross," Chara groans, sticking out their tongue in disgust. Even though Frisk can't see it, they still chuckle at their partner's behavior.

" _Just_ \--" Frisk starts, before faltering. Their gesture turns into a more thoughtful one, hand on their chin, lips parted in thought.

"Just... what? What were you gonna say?"

Frisk purses their lips. " _I was going to say, 'just do things your own way', but I don't think killing Kris will solve your problems_."

Chara melodramatically gasps, throwing a hand over their heart and draping their body back across the chair's arm. "Aghast! To be accused in such a way! Why, I've nary a malicious bone in my body!"

More silent, wheezy giggles from Frisk, who needlessly covers their own mouth with their hands. After the amusement dies down, they sign, " _Really, though. Talking to them could help_."

"Oh yeah, they're REAL talkative," Chara says flatly, slumping over the side of the chair.

" _More than you think_ ," Frisk retorts, to which Chara can't help but frown. _How would you know? Why do you know?_ A spark of anger flares in Chara's core.

"You shouldn't talk to them, Frisk," Chara warns. "They're a human. You know what they're like, don't you? You've seen it yourself, they're all the same."

There's no response as Frisk gently swings their legs back and forth. Chara waits, expectant, and is eventually rewarded for their patience.

" _Kris is different_ ," Frisk signs. " _Do you think_ \--"

"I think they're creepy, weird, and untrustworthy," Chara snaps, turning away so they don't have to see Frisk's objections. "You don't know them, Frisk. There's no reason to trust them."

There's a light tugging on their sleeve, and Chara sighs. As if it requires some great amount of effort, they slowly turn to look at Frisk with an annoyed, "What?"

" _They told me about their mom_ ," Frisk signs. " _That's something I know about them_."

Chara raises a brow, "Oh yeah? What'd they say? That they have one?"

Frisk shakes their head before going off into a simplified retelling of their conversation with Kris. The whole time, Chara watches them, expression changing from skeptical to curious back to skeptical.

"Frisk?"

The aforementioned child tilts their head in question.

"You realize that describes Toriel?"

The fallen child's lips part. They tilt their head downwards, thinking over Chara's observation, their dominant hand absentmindedly fiddling with the bracelet on their opposite wrist. After about a minute, they raise their head back up and sign, " _Maybe that's why they get along with her so well?_ "

"EVERYONE gets along with Toriel. She's personable. Er, I mean, she's likeable," Chara corrects. "Face it, Frisk. Kris lied to you."

The revelation has Frisk's brows creasing, hands fiddling with their bracelets as they lean their head down. Chara can imagine what they're thinking without even having to ask. They're about to comment on it when Frisk unexpectedly starts to sign something.

" _Even if they did, they're not going to go away_ ," Frisk signs. " _We have to get along somehow. Even if they lie to us. And, I think I'd like it better if we all got along_."

Chara finds themself stuck on their first sentence.

"Who's to say they're not going to go away?"

It's spoken with sinister intent, but despite that, Frisk playfully shoves Chara like it's just a joke, one they don't particularly like.

" _I just said you can't kill them_ ," Frisk signs, frowning like a scolding parent. They put their fists on their hips for emphasis. Chara laughs, but it's devoid of any humor.

"I didn't say that," Chara says softly, a mirthless smile on their face. They reach out and grab both of Frisk's hands, a gesture which has Frisk looking confused, and then a little shy. "But... they could go somewhere else. The Underground is a pretty big place."

Despite Chara's hold on them, Frisk signs, " _I don't like that idea._ "

"What's the problem? Toriel doesn't _need_ three children, does she?"

Frisk pulls their hands back. " _I think she would_ ," they sign. Completely pushing their luck, they add, " _I think she'd like all of her children being here._ "

Chara's face darkens, a shadow falling over their eyes. "Frisk..." they say, an edge of warning to their voice.

" _You came back. Didn't you?_ "

Chara turns away with an audible scoff, crossing their arms. "We're not talking about this."

Frisk frowns, but they know better than to keep pressing the issue. No matter how much they want to. " _Even if they left... you don't trust them with Toriel, but you would trust them with--with everyone else?_ " they sign.

"Who cares?" Chara coldly retorts. "You realize we'll never see them again, if we stay here forever? What difference does it make if they're alive or dead?"

They carefully watch Frisk's expression, seeing nothing change. There's a long, heavy silence that they don't know how to fill, and they don't particularly want to, either--let it hang. Let it sink in.

Frisk speaks up eventually. " _I want to see them again_ ," they sign. " _But, if we leave, Toriel doesn't follow. And if we leave, things get messy. It's not messy here._ "

"Until recently, you mean," Chara says under their breath.

" _It'll get better._ "

_That's what they all say._

  
There's a noise. It's hard to listen to; strangled breaths, wheezing, sniffles, some sort of dull pounding. And--wait, hold on.

The sun is shining overhead. Not directly; it floods the cave, dripping down into the area like an ethereal waterfall of light. Where once, there was nothing, nothing at all, no thoughts or feelings or hopes or dreams--now there was this. A familiar sight, with an unfamiliar sound.

They turn their head with a strange sort of effortlessness. Their body is weightless. Their hair doesn't move, like it's taped to their shoulders or something. But these details are inconsequential in comparison to the snivelling child curled up on the ground only a few feet to their left.

Chara gets to their feet, only, they don't connect with the floor. Pushing up off the ground suspends them immediately, like a balloon tethered to the ground by the tiny grasp of a child. They feel like this should frighten them, or freak them out, or at the very least be weird. But it's not. It's like they've done this a thousand times before.

They float, twisting in the air to face the child at an upside down angle, as if peering down from the top half of a bunk bed. The child is very small, with tawny skin, wispy hair, and chubby legs sticking out of their blue shorts. Their eyes are corked shut, small hands a death grip around huge chunks of their own hair. Chara observes their face--this is what people call, ugly crying.

The child keeps wildly shaking their head, and Chara really has no idea what that's about but it's weird, and needs to stop--nevermind everything else, this toddler needs to chill out.

"Hey, calm down," Chara snaps, as if such a method has literally ever worked on a crying child. It makes them feel better, though, and that's what matters.

The child jolts, their already erratic breathing becoming moreso. Tiny hands move from their hair to instead wrap around their own body in a tight self-hug, shifting their head around in search of the voice. Chara would describe it as looking, if their eyes had actually been open.

Chara drifts into an upright position, floating directly in front of the child, hands on their hips. "You know, it helps if you OPEN your eyes, first."

The child sniffles, not that it does much to help all the snot coating their face. Trembling, they raise their hands, hovering nearby their chestnut brown hair, and right when Chara thinks they might start pulling their hair again, they open their eyes.

Their eyelids, anyway.

"...Oh," Chara mumbles dumbly. "Ohhhhh."

The child's eyes snap shut, and they make several loud, hyperventilating breaths. Their right hand twitches strangely before they start to perform a familiar gesture, rubbing a hesitant circle around their chest. It's very specific, so... it has to be...?

"What for?" Chara asks.

The child flinches, and Chara nearly rolls their eyes, settling instead on an unimpressed glare. Talk about an overreaction.

" _Scary_ ," the child signs. Immediately after their hands dig into their own hair, grasping the strands with a frightful desperation, and they lower their head. Chara scoffs before giving the child a quick once-over; they had skinned knees, just barely covered by little adhesive bandages meant for much smaller wounds.

"I've seen worse," Chara deadpans, raising an eyebrow at the state of them. With a sigh they reach for the child's hands, intending to pull them away from their hair, but their pale hands phase right through. This, too, should scare them, but it doesn't. There's nothing. If anything, it's a little annoying.

The child, however, reacts immediately, their head shooting back up and hands darting away. They face forward, chest heaving, laborious breaths straining past their throat.

"Hey, you're gonna suffocate. You know what the word means? Suf-fo-cate?"

Tiny hands reach out in their direction, hesitant and unsure. Chara stares down at the appendages, noting the presence of tiny cuts and bruises which they quickly dismiss as ordinary. When the hands reach them, they pass right through Chara's form, displacing their midsection in a fine mist. Experimentally the hands slowly move from side to side, up and down, pushing the particles around.

It feels like nothing at all.

"Not that this isn't fun and all--it isn't, by the way--, but--"

The child shoots forward suddenly, throwing their arms around Chara's form--or, rather, positioning themself into the equivalent of a hug, between corporeal and non. They sob openly into Chara's shoulder, the tears falling right through and onto the stone floor.

Bewildered, Chara sputters, stiffening despite the fact they can't feel the child's arms around them at all. They try to move, passing easily through the child's body, but it's no use--the child follows, keeping them trapped in a prison of hugs and crying children and they're forced to give up.

"How are you doing that?" Chara asks with a grumble. "You're _blind_."

The child just sniffles in response.

"Ugh, whatever. Just make it quick. This is really boring on my end."

It takes far longer than Chara would like, but the child does eventually calm down, breaths evening out. They pull back on their own, wiping their face off with their sleeve, which Chara notices is already thoroughly stained with dried snot.

They float away, observing the nearby area. They know it well; and it doesn't take a genius to find out what happened, although it might take one to fully explain why they're here for it. When they head back down toward the child, they're just about done cleaning their face, and they raise their head just in time for Chara to put their hands on their shoulders. For some reason, the child seems to feel it; Chara doesn't care to question it.

Chara hums, thoughtful. "Tell me your name, child."

The child sniffles one last time before fingerspelling, " _Frisk_."

"Frisk, huh?" Chara repeats, testing out the way the name feels on their tongue. They lean in closer to Frisk's ear and say, "Greetings. My name is Chara."

It wasn't long before Frisk found their own entertainment, away from Chara. This time, it was in the form of cooking, which Frisk couldn't resist taking the opportunity to do. It was a big part of why Toriel tended to announce whenever she was starting a meal; she knew full well there was a chance Frisk would immediately volunteer to help. In this case, they were making pasta, and it was no surprise to see Frisk start bouncing up and down at the mere idea of it.

For Chara, however... eating wasn't their favorite thing to do. Cooking, even less so. It was just something you did to survive. A chore, even.

Unless it was chocolate. That was a WHOLE other story.

Normally they could stand to be left alone, while Frisk spent time one on one with Toriel, or with Napstablook, or any other regular of The Ruins. But now they felt limited, and for what? So Kris could hog the bedroom all the time?

_Would you rather they wandered The Ruins unsupervised? Kill everything in their path, and then some? Then come back, and kill all of you?_

Chara leans back into the plush back of Toriel's favorite chair, rubbing their right arm.

_It's hard to tell whether they're just lying in wait, or delusional, or... have they already done something? How would I know? And, last night..._

_They're trying to trick me. I know they are. You certainly have a strange way of lying, Krissy, but I know better._

They glare out into the hallway, at the bedroom door, as if it had personally wronged them.

_There must be a way to figure you out. Better yet, a way to get you to LEAVE._

With an irritated, exhausted sigh, they bite their tongue, hard. This was--different. Way off script. There wasn't ever supposed to be another human. It was Frisk, and Chara, and Toriel, unbothered, forever. They'd grow up here. Play games. Talk. Frisk would make friends with all the little monsters still hanging around--all twenty-two of them--and they'd go snail hunting together, Frisk would learn how to cook like Toriel and Chara would learn how to knit like her.

Everything was fine. Perfect, even. Why would you want anything else?

_I miss them_

Everything you could ever want was right here.

But, this... it was like introducing a new cat to a house that already had one. Fur would fly. This house, this life--it didn't belong to them.

This belongs--

_to ME._

Their fingers tense, tearing accidentally at a scabbed over injury. They don't notice it at all; no, their mind is much too preoccupied, lightbulbs flickering to life.

Just talk to them, Frisk had said. In other words, face the problem head on. Ignoring it and carrying on wouldn't do any good, and this time, they were in it alone. No one was there to fuck it up.

  
"That little red heart is your SOUL, the very culmination of your being!"

"You have to maneuver that out of the way of projectiles," Chara says lowly, directly in Frisk's ear. They'd taken to standing very closely, hands on Frisk's arms or shoulders as if they could personally lead the child around. They stare down at the glowing red heart shining through the surface of Frisk's chest. "You can feel it, right?"

Frisk nods at exactly the right moment to make it seem like they're simply following along to something Flowey is saying.

"Good. Now, move."

Frisk takes just enough steps to the side to completely avoid the bullets, navigating perfectly through the gaps. Chara watches them with wide eyes, a mirror to Flowey's own expression of shock.

"You know where they are, don't you?"

"You know what's going on here, don't you?"

The bullets surround Frisk's SOUL in a perfect circle, leaving no room for escape. Frisk's lips part in a silent gasp, as Chara's expression darkens. In Frisk's left hand, a wooden stick is clutched tightly, knuckles turning white. Chara places their hands around it, tickling Frisk with a tingle of magic.

"Defend yourself, Frisk," Chara says.

Frisk doesn't move, remaining completely motionless apart from the trembling in their hands and shoulders. The bullets are slowly closing in and Chara's grip tightens, passing through Frisk's flesh, a snarl twisting Chara's expression and

the branch cracks under the weight of their ironclad grip

the pellets vanish, confusion marring Flowey's face. A wisp of flame appears and tears that awful weed right out of the ground with a startled yelp, forcing the flower back underground to escape the oncoming wrath of the monster who cast it. Briefly, Chara considers darting after him, tearing him from the ground and ripping him apart petal by petal. But that's not possible and they're too distracted to formulate such a thought in time.

  
Kris is lying in the center of their bed, flat on their back with one of their legs bent over the other. Chara notes the presence of that cheap, ketchup red devil's headband Kris had suddenly started wearing, and still was. A part of them wants to just snatch it up and snap it; it had to be just some cheap plastic band, right?

_No, Chara. No violences today._

Kris stares up at the ceiling, where little glow in the dark stars are scattered. Chara stares up at them for a moment, a memory threatening to overtake them; and they couldn't have that, so they quickly move on to other things.

Chara slams the door behind them, ignoring the sound of Toriel's chiding voice carrying across the hall. Despite the ruckus, there's zero reaction from Kris, who might as well be dead for all the not-moving they were doing. That kind of ticked Chara off--like Kris was just so above it all, they couldn't be bothered to acknowledge anything around them.

Taking a deep breath, Chara closes their eyes and turns away. What was it adults always said, count to ten or something? They count to three before opening their eyes to the sight of the bedroom floor, where in the corner, not far from Frisk's bed, lay a couple of child-proof, foam swords. Their lips curl up into a smile.

Bingo.

  
The first time a little Froggit had jumped out at them, Frisk had just... reacted. All that signing " _hello_ " at a Dummy had very little realistic application when a small child is suddenly approached by an unknown entity with malicious intent. The second Frisk is dragged into battle, they panic, swinging the branch in a wide arc which slashes right through the Froggit's face.

They don't see or even feel the single damage popup, too busy bursting into tears upon realizing what they'd done. Chara can't even bring themself to say anything.

One damage.

An unknown force, confronting a child with unknown, likely malevolent intent. It could be anything. A relentless killer. Worse.

And yet.

One damage.

Toriel glares until the Froggit hops away on its own, at which point the fuzzy white goat monster swoops in to scoop Frisk into her arms, cradling them like a baby. Frisk clings to the front of Toriel's purple dress, sobbing openly.

"There there, my child, everything is alright now," Toriel says softly, rubbing soothing circles into Frisk's back. Frisk is inconsolable for nearly a full half-minute, during which Chara can't help but grit their teeth. They can't bring themself to look, but they can hear the wheezing sobs.

" _I didn't mean it_ ," Frisk signs with wobbly, trembling hands. Carefully, Toriel uses a single fluffy finger to wipe away Frisk's tears, and Frisk leans into it, chasing the soft, fuzzy feeling.

"Of course, my child. I know you wouldn't wish harm upon such an innocent creature," Toriel says, as if she knew, somehow, exactly what Frisk was like. Chara sighs through their teeth; too trusting. "It is alright. If you would like, we can apologize to them later. Perhaps we can even make them a gift, to show your sincerity. Everyone likes gifts, do they not? How does that sound?"

Frisk sniffles, wrapping both arms around Toriel's wrist and nodding. The goat monster laughs softly, cradling Frisk closer to her chest.

Chara stares off into the room behind them, down at the dark imprint in the stone, processing.

One damage.

  
"Hey, Krissy," Chara greets with incredibly sarcastic, mock cheer. They notice the teen's lip twitch, which just makes Chara grin even wider. "What do you say we play a little game? Everybody likes games, right?"

Kris's head tilts back half an inch. " _Am I going to die?_ " they sign.

"Of fun!" Chara blurts out. Something about their response causes Kris to flinch, which is... too good. They practically dance over to the toy swords, lifting them up in either hand. Curious, Kris swings their legs over the side of the bed, pushing to their feet.

"En garde!" Chara shouts, tossing the right hand sword over to Kris, who, surprisingly enough for Mx. Doesn't Dodge At Dodgeball, swiftly and easily catches it in their right hand.

Chara gives them exactly zero room to adjust, immediately charging at them with the foam sword pulled back as if they could impale Kris through the torso with it. The teen easily dodges, and, despite their sword held at the ready (in both hands, for some reason?) they don't retaliate. Chara doesn't bother asking why--this wasn't a real FIGHT, there were no turn-based rules--merely charging in for another strike.

Slash after jab of the pretend sword and not a single hit so much as grazes Kris. It was like they already knew what to expect, and it was infuriating.

With an exasperated groan, Chara stops. "Come on, Kris! You're supposed to fight ba-ACK--" Chara quickly throws up their sword to block Kris's incoming attack. The overhand strike is sudden and alarmingly aggressive, nearly sending Chara tumbling to the ground with the force of it, but they dismiss it as them being caught off guard.

With a growl they shove Kris back, but the teen rebounds immediately, rushing forward with another strike. Chara parries, finding the timing a little hard to match.

Pushing forward, they manage to knock Kris backwards, but the teen briskly corrects themself and goes on the defensive. The foam sword squishes so far in on itself under the weight of Chara's, it might as well snap in two. Chara glares up at Kris, who stares down at them in return, golden eye wide, in...

Fear?

Something thick drips down Chara's chin and they know it's not sweat, couldn't possibly be blood, nor tears. They glance down at their left hand, gripped overly tight around the handle of their sword, melting like a wax candle.

Oh. Well.

They lock eyes with Kris, their scleras and mouth turning pitch black, a thick, bubbly, tar-like substance oozing out. It makes it a little hard to speak, so they don't, using the momentary lapse in Kris's offense to pull back, slashing the toy sword at Kris's neck, making a watery cackling sound all the way.

Despite everything, Kris manages to step back in time to avoid the pretend fatal blow. Chara doesn't let up, and Kris continues to dodge and occassionally retaliate, their strikes more aggressive than a mock battle should be, but that hardly bothers Chara. It's much more up to their speed than the alternative.

Part of them wishes it weren't pretend, but Kris would probably be too good at dodging to be any fun.

After awhile Chara manages to knock the sword out of Kris's hand, and before the teen can rush over to retrieve it, Chara aims their sword directly at Kris's chest, where their SOUL would be, halting them.

"Ha! Game over," Chara taunts, feeling their form solidifying as they pose like some kind of expert fencer. Kris just stares at them, mouth agape, like they're not sure what to address or react to first.

Nearly a full thirty seconds passes in complete, stunned silence, with nothing but the sound of Kris's labored breathing filling the air. It starts to get awkward, and Chara feels they should say something (or at the very least, stop posing), until Kris suddenly grabs their chest and fakes a heart attack. They crumple up on the ground, making sure to dramatically reach for the heavens before lying motionless. Well, close to it, anyway.

Chara slumps, staring down at the teen with one eyebrow raised. They roll their eyes, before flatly declaring, "Oh, no, the human is dead! What a tragedy this is! Truly, they will be missed," they lightly kick Kris's limp right arm, "by all zero people who cared about them. I'd arrange a funeral, but I'd have to cremate you first."

Kris doesn't respond.

"Welp, I guess if you're dead..." Chara trails off, unsure how much they should say. The anxiety in the pit of their stomach tells them not to say anything, so they swerve into a different lane. "...Then there's... more pie for me."

They toss the sword aside, turning and flopping down onto Frisk's bed, legs bent with one ankle resting on the opposite thigh, arms behind their head. They don't hear Kris making any move to get up, so they just keep talking. "Man, sure is nice not having so many humans around here anymore. Maybe I should hide the body? Nah, I'll just tell everyone you're sleeping."

After that, they rapidly lose interest in pretending Kris is dead. They're a bit hyped up, body burning for some more action, and unlike Kris, they don't tire so easily. Lying around gazing at the ceiling is failing to entertain, so they push themself back up onto their feet.

"Alright, come on, you little weird...o..."

The human is gone.

"What... How did you?" They take a step forward, "Where did you go?" Only for their ankle to be grabbed and yanked backwards, causing them to faceplant into the rug with an undignified yelp. Instinctively, they kick out with their other leg, but their foot doesn't connect with anything. The grip around their ankle loosens, and some barely perceptible shuffling sounds bring their attention to their right, where Kris crawls out from under the bed. They lay their head on their hands, completely casual.

Chara loudly groans, reaching out and shoving their hand into Kris's face, keeping them held at a further distance. "You're so annoying," Chara gripes.

" _I'm lovable_ ," Kris signs, making no attempt to move Chara's hand away.

Chara feels as if there's some sort of pun to be made there, but Kris probably wouldn't get it even if they could formulate one. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Chara says instead.

They pull their hand back, using it to help them shuffle away, putting more distance between them and Kris. Kris is staring at them, or so they assume; both golden eyes are obscured. Before Chara can think of something to say, Kris begins signing.

" _You play rough for an eight year old._ "

Chara huffs, amused. "You play rough for someone pretend swordfighting an eight year old."

Kris just shrugs, one corner of their lips pulled back as if to say "what can you do". " _I get that a lot_ ," they sign.

"What? That you're weirdly aggressive against eight year olds?"

" _No_ ," they sign, entirely motionless otherwise. " _That I play rough and that I'm weirdly aggressive_."

Chara hums, thoughtful. Resigning themself to their fate of lying on the floor, they lay their head down, reddish brown hair pooling around their face. "Me, too," they say, chewing on the inside of their cheek.

Kris mimicks Chara's position, although it's a lot more awkward and harder to look at when they need their hands to be visible in order to communicate properly. " _I don't think I'm doing anything wrong_ ," Kris signs. " _I don't know how else you're supposed to do it._ "

Their phrasing seems a little odd and confusing to Chara, but they think they understand. "I'unno. Hey, who cares? Play to win, right?" They say it dismissively--quick to want a conversation to end, but not knowing where else they're supposed to go once it does.

This situation... they weren't sure what they were doing. Making friends? What was the point? Kris couldn't stay. But they... couldn't exactly leave, either, could they? Was Frisk right? Did they need to get along to live peacefully together, for the rest of their lives?

Sleeping in the same room, in a small house, one bathroom between three children and a massive goat monster. Where would Kris have to go if not everywhere Chara and Frisk went? There weren't a lot of options.

Chara sighs, propping their head up on the head with a pout.

_a small house_

_two children_

No--

_a dim hallway lit with the dying embers of flickering flames_

_It would not be right for you to grow up in a place like this._

A sudden pressure on the tip of their nose draws Chara out of their own head. They startle, an undignified yelp tearing out of their throat, before they manage to focus in on the source; Kris, with one hand hovering nearby, limply pointing toward Chara's face.

Chara growls, annoyed. It doesn't hurt in the slightest but they make a point of rubbing their nose as if it did, anyway. "UGH--What the hell, Kris?"

" _Penny for your thoughts_ ," Kris signs, before framing their face in their flat-as-a-board hands.

"We don't use those here," Chara nitpicks, stalling.

_You would just be unhappy trapped down here._

"What's with that dumb headband?" Chara blurts out. They're not sure where the question came from, all of a sudden, but it sure is a good deflect, and they're grateful for it. In response to it, Kris stiffens, one hand reaching up to touch the horned band, as if to check that it's still there.

It's awhile before Kris provides an actual response. The wait only makes Chara's reemerging aggression worse, patience wearing thin; they're seconds away from telling Kris to hurry up, or to just leave the room and find better things to do, when Kris starts signing.

" _It feels right_ ," Kris signs.

Brows creased, Chara fixes the teen with an unimpressed stare. "Uh, _okay_ , what does that even mean?"

Dark brown hair pools around Kris's head as they press deeper against the carpet, bangs falling out of the way of their golden eyes, fixed on the carpet like it was the most interesting sight in the world. Chara can't help but note that they look tired, eyes lidded and droopy; it was like their flesh weighed too much and they were too tired to hold it up anymore. They look into those yellow irises and find nothing--no details, no emotion, hardly any focus, neither living nor dead.

_Why do your eyes look like that?_

_What are you, anyway? A demon?_

_So scary..._

Chara's lips part.

" _I identify with it_ ," Kris signs.

"I hate it," comes Chara's immediate response, their sudden intensity causing Kris's entire body to tense up. "Why would anyone identify with that ugly piece of plastic, anyway? You just look stupid."

Without waiting for a response, Chara pushes to their feet, stomping to the door with all the maturity of an eight year old child. "You should take it off," they hiss, before ripping open the door, stepping out into the hallway with the door slamming shut behind them, leaving behind a very bewildered Kris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of why this took so long was because I wrote two different versions of Kris and Chara's interactions in this chapter. first one was as you see it now, second version involved an actual FIGHT, but it felt like everything that led up to it was out of nowhere and awkward so, foam swords it is
> 
> if anyone's interested in the alternate version I could post it on g docs or something, just know that it's unfinished and will stay that way

**Author's Note:**

> http://koteosa.carrd.co/


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